


Annoyed Again (Naturally)

by scowlofjustice



Category: Megamind (2010)
Genre: Bad Puns, Crack Relationships, Drunken Flirting, Gen, I'm Bad At Tagging
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-07
Updated: 2015-01-17
Packaged: 2018-02-28 11:34:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 28,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2730956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scowlofjustice/pseuds/scowlofjustice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone's weekend gets turned upside down when Roxanne stumbles upon Megamind's latest scheme.  Also:  Can Megamind hold his liquor?  Will anyone notice Roxanne acting a bit odd on the news?  Is Metro Man secretly Canadian?  We just don't know.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. These Boots Were Made For Destruction

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Fialleril](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fialleril/gifts).



> A huge thanks goes my "shadow fandom" for being by my side as I undertook this wild project. It wouldn't have been possible without you.

_“Robin, listen to these riddles. Tell me if you interpret them as I do. One: What has yellow skin, and writes?”_

_“A ballpoint banana!”_

  _"Right. Two—”_

Roxanne turned the channel away from TV Land. It’s not as though she had any issue with the Adam West version of Batman, it’s just that she already lived in an absurd superhero universe as it was and she couldn’t be bothered with any more of this kind of nonsense. She flipped through unusual programming on various channels—at one point passing something about alien abductions—before finally turning the TV off. _Alien abductions._ Funny. She’d never really thought about it that way, but she had a long history of being abducted by aliens, too.

 She leaned back into her couch and closed her eyes, thinking about Good and Evil. Oh, she didn’t think about it in a grand, philosophical sense. In Metro City, Good and Evil hit much closer to home than that. It hit _so_ close to home, in fact, that quite often people found heroes and villains crashing through their bedroom walls.

 Nobody in Metro City had a shot at normalcy, least of all Roxanne Ritchi.

 Yet in these quiet moments, she could at least pretend. The oft exhausted reporter leaned over and turned off a nearby lamp, plunging her into a darkness only broken by the green time display on her DVR and the orange haze of streetlights that tried in vain to spill through a crack in her balcony curtains.

 Sitting in darkness—is that what normal people did? Perhaps, she reasoned, the greatest people were the ones who could stand a little silence in their lives.

 The innards of her apartment building came to life. Water sloshed through pipes. Her refrigerator hummed. At times, sirens blared from outside, and at other times, footsteps stomped around on the floor above her.

 What this moment needed, she decided, was oolong tea.

 Roxanne hopped from the couch, slid into her slippers, and switched on the light. She migrated to her kitchen and fetched a teacup from the cupboard while switching on her stove in one swift motion—blue flames licked the bottom of the tea kettle perched on top. Roxanne was in the process of fetching a tin of tea when she glanced at the note she had left on the counter.

 She’d forgotten about that one. It had been delivered in a sky-blue envelope marked “S.W.A.L.B.” (Sealed with a Laser-Beam) and was addressed “To the Most Honorable Roxanne Ritchi.” The paper itself was coated with a watermark in the shape of a pale blue lightning-bolt, and the note itself had been written in small, precise handwriting with a handsome slant. Even Megamind’s signature was without flourish, which always ground against Roxanne’s expectations.

 Apparently he had some “matters of great import” to discuss, and it figured, considering the circumstances that the two of them had been in the other weekend.

  _…however, out of the microgram of kindness that does, regrettably, exist in my heart, I am willing to forgive these heinous acts against my privacy and dignity. It would do well for you to be aware that it is I who ultimately holds the upper hand in this situation and that I will be paying you a visit to your residence shortly—that is, on Tuesday at precisely 9PM—to further discuss these matters with you._

 There was a _clank_ and the aroma of spilled tea leaves, but Roxanne didn’t notice her suddenly emptier hand. She looked at her calendar. It was Tuesday. She chanced a glance at the wall-clock: It was 8:59PM. _Damn her for never taking Megamind seriously._

 She abandoned her impromptu task, dashed into her living room, and took a dive underneath her couch to retrieve an old boot.[1] Roxanne was the damsel in this equation, but it was a little known fact that she was allowed some of her own fun.

 Megamind, with his ability to get around via hoverbike, had a tendency to forget that Roxanne’s back balcony—which was quite a way above ground level—didn’t count as a viable entrance. However, it did make him an amusing target for boot-throwing on those very[2] rare occasions that he did visit her apartment.

 Halfway to the back door, boot in hand, her front doorbell rang and she yelped, spinning around and nearly hurling the boot toward the source of the sound. She dropped the ancient footwear with a snarl and marched to the door, only to slow her pace halfway to a quiet tiptoe. When she reached it, she leaned up against it with her back, casting sidelong glance at the door’s security chain.

 Roxanne flung the door inwards. Her top-heavy victim stumbled and hit the floor with an un-villainous yelp, which was followed by several moments of struggling to get up while tripping over his cape and making muffled “URMPH” noises.

 Crouching down she said, "Well, at least this time you didn't smudge your face against my back door."

 "Indeed," said the villain, getting to his knees.  "The last time you complained, I took so much pity on you that I went home to play the world's saddest song on the world's smallest viola."  He rubbed his thumb and his forefinger together appropriately.

 "It's _'violin,'_ " said Roxanne.

 "No, it was definitely a viola.  I could never get the hang of miniature violins."

 Roxanne sat crouched with her mouth agape as Megamind got to his feet, brushed himself off, and plopped himself onto her sofa.  As though trying to prove that super villains could do whatever they wanted, he propped up his booted feet onto her ottoman and switched on the TV to watch a documentary about bears.

  _Who did he think he was?  Inviting himself in, talking nonsense about tiny musical instruments..._

"Hurry up and tell me what you’re doing here,” said Roxanne, re-latching her door, “before I call the cops.”

 Megamind belched out a hollow laugh. “Oh please,” he sneered, “we live in a society where pizza gets to your house faster than the police.”

 Roxanne stepped in front of the TV with her arms crossed. “Look, I know you want to complain about last weekend—”

 "Who said I was complaining?” Megamind leaped from Roxanne’s couch with a smile plastered on his face. “We had a jolly time, after all.”

 “Do you even remember any of it?”

 “I don’t need to,” Megamind said, twirling on his heel to pace around the room. He looked around as though in awe of her décor, admiring the high ceilings of the place in particular. Megamind always liked high ceilings. “I have this,” with those words, he procured a tiny video-cassette seemingly out of nowhere. “My Brainbots always keep an eye on things. Comes in handy when certain nosy reporters try to manipulate me while I’m in… _unusual_ states of mind.”

 Roxanne opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off by a whistling from the other room. The two of them stared at each other for a moment. “Wait a second,” Roxanne said as she inched to the kitchen with an eye on the villain. Once inside, she poured hot water into a mug, occasionally glancing over her shoulder at Megamind. He was busy looking around as though he’d never seen the inside of an apartment before. She wondered if she should have offered him a cup, figuring that he would likely scold her poor manners if she didn’t.

 “What kind of tea do you like?” She called.

 “Blueberry.” That was his answer to everything.[3]

 “I don’t have blueberry tea,” Roxanne shot back.

 “Then blueberry Poppéd-Tarts,” he said.

 “I don’t have any Pop-Tarts.”

 “Oh. I don’t want anything, then. Thanks for the offer.”

 When Roxanne returned to the living room, she found Megamind inspecting an item that he’d found among the scattered cosmetics on Roxanne’s coffee table. “What kind of… _torture device_ is _this?”_ He blinked owlishly at the silver death machine, a look of mixed fascination and horror dawning on his features.

 Roxanne was just as transfixed by the look on Megamind’s face as he was by the contraption in his hand. For a brief moment, it even curbed her desire for throwing footwear at him.

 “It’s an eyelash curler,” she said finally.

 "A device that causes so much pain that even the eyelashes curl? _Delightfully diabolical!”_ He was wearing an expression of pure joy.

 “Look, what do you want?” Roxanne demanded.

 “ _Fury and destruction—that’s what I want!_ ” He hissed, brandishing his newly found weapon at Roxanne. “And Pop-Tarts.”

 “What do you want from _me?”_ Roxanne clarified.

 “Ah—yes, I was getting to that,” he said, beginning to pace around the room, twirling the Evil eyelash curler on his finger by one of its handles. “So,” he said, “I figured, in coming here, that I would kill two birds at once—”

 “—With one stone—”

 “—With one _cassette tape,_ ” Megamind snapped back. “You see, Ms. Ritchi, I’ve noticed in recent years that you have been expressing a marked decrease in terror of my—er— _terrifyingfulness_. But imagine my elation at the opportunity of seeing how you would respond… _to blackmail_.”

 “Everything about that whole episode was embarrassing for _you_.”

 “Maybe, but _I’m_ the one with the tape. And _you_ are the one who played Scrabble with a nefarious criminal. And just _imagine_ what the people of Metrocity would think when they see The Most Honorable Roxanne Ritchi spending her weekend with The Master of all Villainy.”

 “ _Really?_ You’re barging into my apartment because…because of…” She gestured in the air with her hand. “Because of _that?_ What, do you want to hang out even more?”

 For a moment, Megamind’s face lit up with wonder, but then it migrated into a scowl, and then a sneer. “I think you could use a memory jog yourself, Ms. Ritchi. You _do_ recall, don’t you, that there may have been a few…moments,” he said, a warm smile gracing his features, “that really made us seem like _real chums?”_ He leaned in with an eyebrow raised.

 Roxanne’s eyelids descended in a slow blink and then rose once more. “What are your terms this time?”

 Megamind, who had momentarily been preoccupied with sticking a finger into the tiny jaws of the borrowed death-trap, looked back up at Roxanne.   He cleared his throat. “Firstably,” he said, pacing around the room with gravity, “I don’t want you divulging any of my secrets, and that includes my great plans for Metrocity’s _dooooooooom._ ”

 “Look, I don’t care what you have going on at—”

 “And _secondably,_ ” he said, swishing his cape as he spun around to face her from across the room, “I want to know Metro Man’s true weakness!” He pointed a gloved finger skyward.

 “ _Ugh._ Not _this_ again,” groaned Roxanne. “I thought we were over playing that game.”

 “As ass-in-nine as they are, your suggestions do give me inspiration when I have Villain’s Block,” replied Megamind.

 “I did like what you did with ‘his weakness is culinary herbs’ that one time. ”

 “Ah, yes,” sighed Megamind, “Thyme sure flies when villains have fun.”

 “Too bad for you that Metro Man can stop thyme.”

 Megamind frowned for a moment. “Look—I know Metro Man is _perfect_ ,” he said. “But I,” he announced, leaping onto a nearby chair, “am _fantastic_.” He leapt back down and trotted toward Roxanne once more. “Come _on_ , every hero has a weakness. It’s like…the _rule_. It wouldn’t be fair otherwise. So how about it?”

 Roxanne considered him for a long moment.  “If I tell you—something—will you promise to go away and stop being so annoying?”

 “Hey, hey, hey. Promising to not be annoying wasn’t part of the deal.  It was never part of _any_ deal.”

 She thought, pinching the bridge of her nose. Megamind was a pie-in-the-sky kind of person.[4]

 “Look, I don’t know what you want from me,” said Roxanne. She sighed. If Metro Man did have any weakness, it was other men. But while they may have drained him in other ways, they didn’t drain him of his powers.

 “Er…I don’t know, _copper?_ ” She ventured at last.

 “But I’m already—” Megamind cut himself off and scowled. “ _Pffft._ What do you want me to do, throw pennies at the guy?”

 “I’m gonna throw my couch at you if you don’t get out of here.”

 “ _That’s it!”_ Megamind snapped his fingers. “I could build… _a futon torpedo!”_

 “Come again?”

 “Oh, Ms. Ritchi, must I spell it out for you? It’s a _pune,_ or a play on words. You see, it’s like a—”

 “I _get it,”_ she said through gritted teeth. “Now get _out.”_

“Oh, as you wish, my pouting temptress!” Megamind said, trotting toward Roxanne’s balcony doors. “I’ll be off to do some Evil planning! How I would love to stay for tea, but you know how demanding villainy is.” He tossed the eyelash curler over his shoulder and Roxanne caught it without looking.

 The villain flung open the glass doors. “ _Mercy buckets,”_ he called over his shoulder, in a poor attempt at French. “Oh, and when it turns out that his weakness isn’t related to common metals or up-hole-story, I’ll be back to bother you some more. In the meantime,” he added, dangerously leaping onto the balcony railing, “I’d like you to practice your—JAZZ HANDS!” He twirled about—ignoring his precarious position—to face her, striking a pose with his arms outstretched and wiggling his splayed fingers. His cape _whooshed_ with the action. He then fell backward into the night, just in time to avoid a projectile boot.

 Roxanne didn’t bother to watch as three Brainbots carried Megamind down to the street below, while a fourth swooped downward to retrieve Roxanne’s fallen ammunition. Instead, she fetched her tea. How had things come to this? _It had all started on Friday…_

 

___

[1] The source of the boots in Megamind’s Spinning Boot-Wheel of Death was, in fact, Roxanne Ritchi.

[2] Kidnappings never took place at Roxanne’s apartment. It was an unspoken rule. But mostly, Roxanne had good aim.

[3] This is due to a longstanding belief of Megamind’s that anything blueberry related is good for his complexion.

[4] Literally. One year, on March 14th, he stole forty pies in celebration of Pi Day and aimed each one at a different window of City Hall. One coconut-cream pie in particular was reserved for the Mayor’s face, as he opened his office windows to catch the spring breeze at just the wrong time. 

Megamind took _forty_ pies.  That’s as many as four tens. And that’s terrible.

 


	2. Destiny's Child

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Don't you hate it when you run into your city's patron supervillain? Ugh. Talk about awkward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anyone who has read my one-shot "Sex, Puns, and Rock n Roll" will find that the "Spanish Inquisition" sequence is the same. That scene was originally written for this fic, but this fic was taking me so long that I tossed it into that shorter one just to get it out of my system.

Megamind sat in the passenger seat of the invisible car with his arms crossed. He was glowering like a small angry child as Minion maneuvered through Metro City traffic. Minion, who was accustomed to this sort of behavior, nevertheless tried to break the uncomfortable silence between them.

 “I’m sure you haven’t heard _this_ one,” the fish said with a toothy grin. “What do you do with a deceased chemist?”

 Megamind glared straight ahead.

 “You _barium_! Get it? …Sir?”

 Megamind’s lips twitched and trembled as he struggled to suppress a smile. As a result, he purposefully deepened his scowl, sticking his lower lip out in an exaggerated pout. The silence lingered.

 “Was it really that bad?” Minion said at long last. “What happened this morning, I mean.”

The blue alien let out a long sigh. “ _You_ must know how awful it was much more than I, Minion. After all, you’re the only one between us who remembers it first-hand.”

 “Well, ‘awful’ isn’t quite the word I would use to describe it. I think that the Demoralization ray had made you act—cute, sir.”

 Megamind turned sharply to Minion, his eyes wide with disgust. “ _Cute?”_ He roared. “That was the most _embarrassing_ footage ever created in the history of…of…foot _-auge,”_ he said, rhyming the final syllable of ‘foot- _auge_ ’ with ‘decoupage,’ the very art which had been his bane that morning. It was all Minion’s idea, of course. _He’d_ suggested that Megamind take a chance to de-stress with the magic of varnished paper cut-out crafts. And then, in his distracted state of mind, the artistic supervillain had accidentally left the gun in ‘demoralize’ mode when he fired—causing the ray to ricochet off of several surfaces before hitting him in the face. “I could have run out into the streets in that state of mind,” Megamind continued. “I could have gone…” he trailed off.

 “Sir?”

 Megamind fell silent, but this time it was a morose silence.

 Minion, knowing Megamind well, was adept at the art of getting his best friend’s spirits back up. “You know, sir,” he said, “You must be the only person diabolical enough to invent such a ray. And the fact that its victims can’t even remember being under its spell is a real bonus, if I do say so myself.”

 “Right, very diabolical,” said Megamind uncertainly. That last bit was precisely the worst part of it all: Not knowing how it had really made him feel. “It seems that even I underestimate the gifts bestowed on me by the Eeee-vil Gods above,” he added.

 He tried to shove the matter out of his expansive mind. Now, he had _real_ pressing matters to deal with. Time was of the essence on his latest scheme, as for once he had a due date: Metro Man Day. But things so far were not falling into place. For one, his death-ray satellite was stubbornly off its appropriate orbiting path and secondly, they had yet to install a giant two-way telecommunication monitor in the abandoned observatory so that he and Metro Man could engage in witty banter before he did him in.[1]

 The observatory—it was where they were headed at long last.

 ___

[1] There’s some ambiguity regarding who is doing whom in.

 

* * *

 

There was concrete all around. Concrete steps were leading up and up. The sound of each falling footstep rebounded from every direction. A door shrieked open on unwilling hinges, and its protest reverberated throughout the dome. Roxanne winced. When the sound faded to nothing, she took a deep breath and held it for a moment.

The air was stale, but that was no deterrent—in fact, it added to the remoteness of the place. The dome arched upward, encasing her in a vault reminiscent of an old Byzantine church. It was industrial and elegant all at once—the sight kept her eyes glued to its heights as her feet wandered aimlessly. She paused near the center and pulled a crumpled post-it-note from her pocket.

It was one in a long series of well-wishes written for victims of tragedies throughout the city. Her profession, by its nature, lent her a mind that was bogged down by such things.

 There was once a time when these notes took up residence in her apartment, but over these weeks they had been scattered to every corner of Metro City. Although she wouldn’t consciously admit it, it’s likely that the change started in Megamind’s clutches.

 

**♦♦**

A crescent-shaped blade swooped down from a ceiling so far that it disappeared into blackness.  It was a deadly pendulum which neared its victim by a minute degree stroke by stroke. Clocklike, it represented the ticking away of one’s passing life as it would slowly turn into an agonizing death.  This pendulum did not tick, but it made a low ‘whoosh’ with each swipe.  The gleaming blade neared hungrily to the abdomen of its prey, bound and helpless on her back.

“I’ve gotta hand it to you,” said Roxanne, bound and helpless on her back, “I wasn’t expecting a setup quite like this.”

“Then would you care to know, Ms. Ritchi,” said Megamind, swooping over to her in his desk chair, “that this particular method of torture was rumored to have been used during the Spanish Inquisition?”

“And all this time I thought they used comfy chairs,” quipped Roxanne.

“Oh!  Ooh!”  Squealed Minion, clapping his giant metallic fingers, “I see _exactly_ where you’re going with this, sir!   _You’re_ saying that Ms. Ritchi wasn’t _expecting_ this, because as they say, _nobody_ expects the—”

There was a dual “UGH” as Megamind and Roxanne groaned in unison.

“Minion,” moaned Megamind, “Can’t you, for once, go for a little _subtlety?_  I practically had this entire thing thought out, and the very backbone of Evil banter is having well-scripted dialogue.”

“Well, it’s the thought that counts,” supplied Roxanne.

“Yes, kind of like with those notes of yours.”

The words hung in the air like the stench of a Brainbot leaving an oily mess on the carpet. Megamind bit his lip and looked away, much like a guilty Brainbot in that same situation.  "S-orry," he whispered, lips not accustomed to the syllables of the word.

Roxanne’s gaze snapped from the blade to the villain.  

 “Uh, anyway,” he faltered, voice shaking as Roxanne continued to glare, “Let's see if your boyfriend can handle my...unexpected reign of terror on Metrocity."

**♦♦**

 

  _What he says is completely irrelevant,_ Roxanne would tell herself. _He’s a supervillain—being a complete ass is part of the job description._ No, nothing he said actually _mattered._ She told herself this over and over again, once for every passing moment that the words from that day blazed through her mind: _It’s the thought that counts—much like those little notes._

  _It’s the thought that counts._

 Megamind didn’t matter. He was just a public nuisance. But as the days went on, she found it harder and harder to even look at the notes without feeling a tinge of embarrassment—and they were everywhere. It was beyond her to write any more. She tried, but after two faltering words she just sat, feeling foolish.

One day she tore the notes down, and the walls looked vacant without them. Roxanne had half expected to see off-color squares in their place, but they hadn’t been there long enough for that. She almost wished that it was the case, so that each note could at least have had a ghost in its memory—but instead, it was as though they had never existed. She looked at the pile she had made. _Time to throw them out,_ she thought. That image didn’t sit right. It was like throwing out a religious artifact.

Maybe they belonged in the city, she thought. They belonged in places, sometimes secret, and sometimes where they could be found. In the meantime, the pile resided in her closet—but it shrank with the passing weeks as the notes found new places to live.

This was a more exotic location, but that was no bother. In fact, she rather liked that. It reminded her of her days as a tomboy-ish youth who engaged in urban exploration alongside other teens. That was the funny thing about nostalgia: At times it felt as though one were thinking back to times in which one felt free, or at least fre _er_.

What _did_ bother her was a bold red ‘X’ that spanned the entirety of the observatory floor.

Roxanne pursed her lips.  All manner of abandoned buildings were intrinsically unsettling, but this place had been occupied. No one was supposed to be creeping around but _her_.  
  
Roxanne tucked the note back into her pocket.  Was it really worth this expedition to stick this note away someplace where it would remain untouched by time and unseen by anyone? She shuffled her feet noisily as she sauntered around in a circle, savoring the amplification caused by the dome. There were no corners to sit in, but she settled in at a point in the wall between some large beams and slid down to the floor. She stared at the X for a while.

_Doom._ It wasn’t a word. It was a vibration, and it jolted the floor and leapt through her body. With it came the sensation of her blood draining from her limbs and pounding in her ears. Somewhere far below her a door had slammed. She had company.

Roxanne looked up to the giant telescope. It was important to have an edge in these situations, and that meant knowing who her company was before they knew about her.

 

* * *

 

"See, I told you going by Little Italy would cut a huge chunk out of our transit time."  The perky voice sounded familiar to Roxanne.  
  
"Yes, but one thing always troubled me.  What does this 'E' stand for, anyway?  And why is it so little?"    
  
"Um. No, sir, it's not 'Little Little E,' it's—"  
  
“Crab-nuggets,” Roxanne hissed to herself. This was just her luck. She was lucky that the day was overcast and cool.  She was also lucky that the interior of the dome was crisscrossed with so many copper beams that she could scramble toward the skylight.  The question of being in the same place as Megamind was ambiguous as far as luck went.

 She was curled up within the opening of the neglected telescope. The side of her face was leaning against a lens so dusty that a person looking through it wouldn’t find the sun if they were five feet from its surface. Perhaps, she reasoned, if she wiped it hard enough, she’d discover the skeleton of some hapless astronomer that was stuck in its shaft, never mind how one would have gotten in there. Maybe he’d been stuffed in there by a gang of rival physicists.

 It was best not to ruminate on the subject. In any event, she was about to fall out. The problem lay in the hip to telescope ratio, but then again a lot of Roxanne’s problems lay in hip to ‘x’ ratios. Her left leg, trembling, was sticking out toward the sky.

 For a brief moment she considered escaping down the outside of the observatory. Then she noticed the vertical drop down a mountain of rocks and reconsidered that plan. Meanwhile, the conversation echoed below.

 “How long do you estimate the setup to take, boss?”

 “Once we get the Brainbots here? Oh, I don’t know. Give it about twenty minutes.”

 “But,” sputtered the fish, “then why were you so _cross_ this morning?”

 “Don’t I have a right to be? I can feel however I want. Without anyone questioning me about it all the time.”

 “Sir, I’m not entirely sure that ray wore off.”

 “Of course it did! I designed it specifically to only last for a given period of time, based on the setting I choose—the neurological effect has completely vanished by now, I’m sure of it! Now, if you would be so kind, take this…” there was a shuffling sound, “and head outside where you can track that abominable satellite—you’ll never get any reception under all this copper.”

 The sound of dejected clunking footsteps slowly grew quieter, and then a door slammed.

Her leg was beginning to burn. Her _other_ leg was beginning to burn. And her arms weren’t doing too well, either. Really, there wasn’t a single body part she could rely on at the moment. It was a shame, since if only she could hang on, she probably could have avoided any complications.

Her last sliver of hope had been dashed by the chalky remains of seagull droppings. Roxanne gripped the top of the telescope with a shaky hand, only to have it fly backward in a cloud of white dust. A gasp escaped her lips but she lunged to the side and pinned her hand to the mobile copper wall that framed the opening. Her legs came loose altogether and she tumbled downward.

 Roxanne rolled back into the shadowy confines of the observatory, expertly sliding down a diagonal beam, but hopping off at the last moment with a tumble and a roll. She made it a note to curse out as though in pain, then she lifted herself onto one foot and hopped back to lean against the wall.

 Megamind paused to glance around.

 "Oh, Miss Ritchi—fancy seeing you here," he said absently, as though there were nothing at all out of the ordinary about news reporters falling out of the ceiling.  He returned his attention to the wall and his notebook, muttering something about the annoying dimensions of curved two-way telecommunication screens.  
  
Then he halted.  There was a much longer pause.

Megamind spun on his heels, and then let his booted feet hit the ground with a dusty _clop_.  His silken cape swished in a flash of black and blue, which would have been dramatic and villain-like had he not had a look on his face like a young boy who’d been caught admiring himself in his mother’s wedding dress.

This didn’t add up.  Why would she snoop? The worst that had ever happened as result of the struggle against Good and Evil were a few broken bones by innocent bystanders, but they shouldn't have been standing around gawking in the first place, Megamind thought. Hanging around in abandoned observatories on Saturday mornings...was this the behavior of normal people?  He had no idea.  He didn't really know what normal people did.  Well, when in doubt, there was only one course of action to follow:  Being Evil.  
  
"Ah…uh..."  Megamind scowled at some point off to the side. How infuriating it was to talk to the woman when she wasn’t strapped to something deadly, he thought.  He then looked up, matched Roxanne's expression in haughtiness, and clasped his hands behind his back.  
  
"What a thrill it is," he purred, striding as a panther stalks its prey, "to be graced by the presence of Metrocity's star reporter."  For a microsecond, his eyes flicked downward to Roxanne’s suspended ankle and he frowned, but then he’d lifted his head higher than ever as though he had seen nothing.  
  
"I thought I would save you the trouble of getting me yourself.”  
  
"A charity, is it," he said, "Or is it a testament to your nosy journalistic skills?  Tell me, Ms. Ritchi," he said, stopping inches from the reporter, "Do you know what I do with people whom I catch snooping around?"  
  
"You have Minion club them over the head with a forget-me-stick and then drop them off at the hospital?"  
  
He froze, eyes looking past Roxanne and mouth forming an aggravated pout.  "Uh—yes, but," he sputtered, "Do you know what I do when I'm in a particularly _Eee-vil_ mood?"  
  
"You tell Minion to drop them off at a seedy bus stop instead?"

There was a pause, which Megamind closed with: “I’m afraid we’re dealing with far too much classified information at the moment. It was a grievous error of me to even breech the subject.”

 Roxanne snorted. That had meant she’d been accurate.

 “But anyway,” said Megamind, “you’re causing me to sir-sum-vent—”

 “Circumvent,” Roxanne corrected.

 “—the matter at hand,” Megamind concluded, ignoring her. “This is about _you_ , not me—and this is hardly the envy-ron-ment that I would expect to find the honorable Roxanne Ritchi.”

 Roxanne opened her mouth once more to correct him, but thought better of it.

 “And that’s _highly_ suspicious,” he added.

 “So who _cares_ if you have some plan here? Don’t you have to enter into some contractual agreement with the City every time you plan on destroying public property anyway? Your doings are hardly mysterious when they’re registered in advance,” said Roxanne.

 “Who said I was doing anything Evil here?”

 Roxanne’s smile faded.

 “That’s right. I have other hobbies aside from villainy,” he said. “Like _science!”_ he declared, pointing a finger skyward. “Of which astronomy is a fascinating branch.”

 “Uh- _huh_ ,” said Roxanne warily. “You know this place is completely decrepit,” she said. “I was cooped up in that old telescope. That lens is filthy.”

 “Ah…well that’s hardly an obstacle for the lens cleaner of Evil.”

 “And what are you going to do about the fact that it’s 11:30 in the morning?”

 “Ms. Ritchi,” Megamind said with a tilt of the head, “Do you honestly think that it’s any difficulty for me to tear a sizeable hole in the Earth’s atmosphere? I could easily do away with all these pesky photons that are bouncing all over the place. _And_ I would be exposing Metrocity to deadly solar radiation. Plus I’d speed up the rate of global warming. It’s a win-win-win scenario.”

 “Or you could wait until night.”

 “It was a _joke,_ Ms. Ritchi. A joke! Eee-vil has a sense of humor too, you know,” said Megamind. Then he turned solemn. “But the reality is,” he sighed, “I’m renovating the place. I have…a very personal reason for being here.” He turned away from Roxanne and shuffled toward the skylight with his hands clasped over his chest. “One year from now…is a very important date for both Metro Man and I,” he said. As if on cue, the sun broke out from the clouds and illuminated the blue villain while leaving a long shadow across the floor of his high-collared silhouette. Roxanne absently followed him and leaned a hand against the behemoth telescope.

 “Certainly he’s mentioned it to you, hasn’t he?” Megamind said, looking back at her. Roxanne shook her head. Megamind raised his eyebrows incredulously. “Honestly, I’m shocked. Perhaps you two aren’t as close as you’d like to think, Ms. Ritchi.” The remark was intended to insult, and Roxanne delivered the appropriate facial response, but quickly hid a smirk with her hand. She and Metro Man weren’t as close as a lot of people liked to think.

 “One year from now,” continued Megamind, “Marks the 33rd and-a-half year anniversary of the destruction of our solar system.”

 Roxanne’s eyebrows migrated toward her chestnut hairline. There wasn’t much to say to a statement like that.

 “And our solar system was located 33 and-a-half light years away,” he continued. “For all these years, it mockingly appeared to be sitting there intact, as though our precious worlds had not been obliterated…” his voice trailed off with a quiver that may have turned into a sob. “But next year, that cosmic event will be visible from Earth.”

 “I had no idea,” Roxanne breathed. “But why…would you _want_ to see your world _destroyed?”_

 “Oh, it’s not _wanting_ , so much as a necessary observance. Wouldn’t you look, if you had one last chance to see your dying home?” After these words, Megamind turned away and pressed his knuckles into his mouth to conceal a snicker. This lie was growing a life of its own— _and she was totally buying it!_

 Roxanne was not buying it. However, she did appreciate his commitment to ad-libbing and theatrics—it was even higher than her appreciation of the fact that he was not threatening her very existence.

 “Wow. Uh, I guess I never really thought about it,” said Roxanne. There was a pause. “Wait a second,” she said, “If it took the light _itself_ all these years to get here, then how are you—”

 “I’m right ahead of you! Ah, yes…uh, we fell into a wormhole at some point or another, as far as I can remember—you can’t expect a simple escape pod designed for an infant and his Minion to be equipped with warp drive, can you? Of course I can’t speak for your _boyfriend_ , who had to show me up with his flashy golden escape pod. Must’ve cost his parents a For- _tune._ ” He put a finger to his chin. “Still, the memory is a bit fuzzy. You know how infantile memory is! Ugh. It’s like you really can’t start thinking clearly until you’re at _least_ three weeks old. Anyway, Minion remembers it better than I do. Speaking of that fish,” he said, checking his watch, “What is _taking_ him so long?” He said this last part more to himself than to Roxanne.

 

♦♦

_Minion, having grown restless with the task at hand, has decided to put Evil aside for a few moments and appreciate the beauty of butterflies flapping in the breeze…_

♦♦

 

“To think of _entire_ worlds just…disappearing,” Roxanne whispered. Megamind was lying about _something,_ but the gravity of the situation was beginning to grow on her.

 “To be honest, I don’t miss the place all that much,” said Megamind. “From what I remember, everyone wore silver. _Dreadful_ fashion choice, if you ask me,” he added.

 Roxanne gawked at him. Did he care about _anything?_

 “But then again, it _was_ the ‘80’s, so I’ll cut them some slack,” Megamind concluded.

 Roxanne considered him for another moment. “You’re being uncharacteristically loose-lipped for one whose life revolves around living in a fortress of solitude,” she observed.

 “So?” Megamind only glanced at her for a moment, but then diverted his gaze. She looked so…amused. It was _terrifying_. Damsels were _not,_ under any circumstances, to be amused. They were supposed to be distressed.

 Roxanne rolled her eyes.  Megamind was obviously lying.  If any of this were true, he wouldn't have said it.  Roxanne knew this.  But then again, Megamind knew that she knew this.  Sometimes he _would_ tell the truth, knowing that it would be met with disbelief.  But Megamind was always three steps ahead, and Roxanne had to be on step four.  Therefore, he could have been lying in the hopes that it would look like he was merely pretending to lie, so that he would not be disbelieved.  However, it was possible that he was pretending to pretend to lie, and therefore he _shouldn’t_ not be disbelieved.  No, that didn't sound quite right.  He was lying about faking to pretend to lie, and therefore his farce should be perceived as an untruth disguised as false truth that wouldn't be believed anyway.  
  
In short, he was a liar.

 “I have one last question for you,” said Roxanne, her _amusement_ rising.

 “Oh?” He crossed his arms. It was a good way to look like a fortress of solitude.

 “I want to know your real name,” she said.

 “My _name?”_ Megamind stared at her owlishly.

 “Yes, your _name_. What your parents called you. Surely you know that?”

 “Uh…” He frowned. As far as he knew, his parents had never named him. In their part of the galaxy, people named themselves. Or, at least that’s what Minion always told him. It’s not like he actually _knew_ anything about where he was from, wherever that was.

 “Oh right, ahh—that’s a very good question. Really takes me back—uh.” He knitted his eyebrows and bit his lip, then released the bite with a _snok._

 Roxanne stood waiting, her _amusement_ rising even _more._

 “My _name…”_ He tapped his nose with a gloved hand as though it would help him remember. “Ah! Yes,” he said. “There are a few things that I must explain to you. Predictably, you are _completely_ ignorant of the cultures of other planets,” he said, rolling his eyes at the word “completely.” “It doesn’t _matter_ what my parents called me. _Civilized_ people name themselves. But, if you must know, infants did fall under a naming system which worked by er, _matri-line-eel-lily, er—”_

“Matrilineality?” Roxanne supplied.

 “Right. What you said. See, my mother’s name was… _Destiny._ So, by _extension,_ I would have been referred to as ‘Child of Destiny.’ ”

 There was a long pause.

 There was something distinctly odd about Megamind.  Oh, there were a lot of odd things about him.  Furthermore, Roxanne didn't quite know what constituted as "normal" by his standards. Still, there was something different about the way he held himself, and the look in his eyes wasn’t as calculating as she was used to. He had a glazed-over expression, like someone completing their first round of drinks for the night.  
  
"How's your ankle?" He asked suddenly.  
  
"Uh..." She wasn't sure what she had been thinking as she fell.  All that mattered in that moment was that she come up with some sort of ruse in the vain hope that she could get Megamind off her back.  "Er..."  Megamind's grand speech had really caught her off guard.  "Well," she said, leaning a hand against the telescope and raising her chin, "As a matter of fact I have been forced to humor you and your...antics while trying to ignore this...this throbbing pain."  She gestured down at her left ankle, strategically off of the ground.  "It seems to me that I've just grown used to being uncomfortable while listening to your drivel about some genius plot or other.  So if you don't mind, I'll just be off.  And I don't need anyone's help in getting home."  With that, she turned and hopped to the door.  
  
"But there's no way you can get home like that!"  Megamind blurted.  He then uprooted himself and trailed behind her.  "Er...I mean—you can't just _hop_ out of here.  I haven't even gotten around to properly interrogating you."  
  
Roxanne ignored him.  
  
"You know," he said, "I could easily take you hostage at any moment of my choice if I so wanted."  Megamind watched the bobbing news reporter, frowning as she paused to rest by the doorframe.  "It's just not penciled in on my Evil To-Do list for today."  
  
At those words, an image formulated in Roxanne's mind of a yellow post-it note on Megamind's bathroom mirror which read:

Evil To-Do List  
1\.  Build something dangerous  
2\.  Kidnap Roxanne Ritchi  
3\.  ...?  
4\.  WORLD DOMINATION!!!

 

She wouldn’t put it past him.  
  
Post-it notes.  Roxanne fished into her pocket for hers and flung it over her shoulder.  It bounced off of Megamind's blue forehead and landed before his feet.  Frowning, he crouched down to pick it up.  "Ah, I remember these," he sighed.  "Whatever did you do with—?"  
  
Roxanne cut him off with a look.  
  
"Oh," he said, glancing around the room.  He cleared his throat and the sound was magnified by the copper dome.  "How _noble_ of you."  He said the word "noble" as though articulating the very syllables of the word brought a bitter taste to his mouth.  
  
"Do you still want to interrogate me?"  Roxanne smirked.  
  
"Er..."  Megamind scratched the back of his head.  
  
"Have any plans for Metro Man Day?"  Roxanne asked.  "Who knows, I might not be in good enough health to be dragged into one of your schemes for a while."

 There was a blue flash and Roxanne saw Megamind crouched on the floor cradling her foot in her hands.  "Nonsense!  Ah, lamentably I had not seen the exact trajectory of your fall, otherwise I could have come up with a more accurate estimate of just how severe this injury is.  Nevertheless, it should hardly pose any challenge for the first-aid kit of Evil.  Now tell me:  Does it hurt when I do this?"  
  
"OW!" Roxanne kicked Megamind in the diaphragm—on accident—hurling him backward onto the floor. For a long moment he wheezed as he struggled to regain the ability to breath.  
  
There was, somewhere, an official handbook on how to deal with supervillains.  But by the time it was published, Roxanne had already known just about all that one needed to know about them.  For instance, it was simply common sense that one was not to trust evil geniuses with medical problems—that is, unless one wanted to grow a few extra limbs, and not necessarily _human_ limbs. In any event, she’d been lying, so she would have grown a third leg in vain. Roxanne bit her lip—it _was_ only Megamind, after all. It wasn’t like he really deserved to be kicked.

Still, she had a window of opportunity to get a head start on him, so without any further hesitation, she dashed from the room and fled down the concrete stairs.

 

* * *

 

He was going to _die_ here. With his mouth open but breathing nothing in or out, stars appeared in his vision as he gazed helplessly up at the vaulted ceiling above. There was a mild ache at the back of his C.O.U.S. (Cranium of Unusual Size) but it was overshadowed completely by his feeling of suffocation. Megamind placed a hand on his solar plexus and sputtered some more as his diaphragm slowly regained mobility.

He breathed.

  _Diabolical! That’s what it was! Nobody was allowed to outclass him! She’d lied, and he foolishly slipped into feeling sickeningly helpful. Oh, if she thought she could beat him at being Evil, she had another thing coming._ Megamind slowly got to his feet, careful not to topple over due to a combination of both light-headedness and top-heaviness. He then stood in the doorway and sighed with a dreamy smile.

 The note was still clutched in his fist. Megamind smoothed it flat as best as he could, and for the first time, read its contents, muttering the note’s message as he did so. “The things that befall people,” he said softly to himself. He then folded the note into an airplane and tossed it at random. He would have tucked it more carefully somewhere but for the fact that this entire place was going to be charred in a matter of weeks.

 

* * *

 

With the aid of trickery, Roxanne has escaped from Megamind's clutches. Unfortunately for her, evading the villain won't be as easy as she thinks...


	3. She Blinded Me With Science

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When villains have bad ideas, everyone suffers.

"Minion!  We have a Code Teal," Megamind hissed into his watch as he flew down the concrete stairs.

"Er...why exactly is it relevant that the toaster oven isn't working?"

"What?"  Megamind paused on a landing, eyebrows knitted.  "I think you're confusing that with a Code Turquoise."

 

* * *

 

Roxanne took a breath of fresh air, but she stayed alert for Minion.  He was out here somewhere. The fish was less problematic to deal with than the villain, but she'd had enough complications for one day.  She crept into the shadows behind the observatory, her footing awkward over large rocks that descended into splashing waters.

"Sir, how many times must I remind you?  Teal is much darker than turquoise," said a voice from the other side of the observatory.  "And don't get me started on aquamarine."

 

* * *

 

"Look, what really matters is—"  Megamind faltered, rubbing his head.  "Yes, but a Code Aquamarine is more like a Code Cyan," he said. “Um. But more…something.” Megamind frowned at his feet, brow furrowed. He had never cared for color theory. Whose idea had it been to start using colors as codes, anyway? It was probably Minion’s.[1]

Minion’s voice continued to chatter from the watch. “But we fireproofed your slippers years ago, sir.”

“Ugh,” said Megamind, slapping a hand to his head. “I said _cyan_ , not _cayenne_! Look. We have a serious breach in our security and I don’t care what color you paint it.”

 

* * *

 

Roxanne continued to listen in on Minion’s side of the conversation. It sounded like the two of them were having an argument in the paint section of a Home Depot. She inched her way down, rock by rock, but leapt to attention as a door slammed against the wall with enough force to shake the island.

“WHAT BUFFOON EVEN CAME UP WITH THE CONCEPT OF TIFANNY BLUE? ROBIN’S EGG BLUE IS SUFFICIENT FOR NAMING PURPOSES!”

Roxanne stumbled backward at Megamind’s grand entrance, and the action thrust her left foot into the slimy crag between two rocks. For a moment, she stood on the pinnacle of balance: That one moment when all time has frozen, just before one takes a lethal plunge into the abyss.

In Roxanne’s case, “lethal” meant something more akin to feeling an unhealthy lurch as most of her body fell but her left foot was stuck. Something tore her ankle, but she forgot about that once she tumbled toward the water below, collecting several scratches and bumps from the rocks on her way down. The “abyss” was the seaweed filled waters that she landed in.

“ _Fu_ — _blllrbll!”_  She lifted herself from the chilly waters, face covered in seaweed.

“Nice try, Ms. Ritchi,” a voice said. “But this isn’t one of those superhero universes in which a thin mask is all one needs to conceal her identity.”

She wiped the seaweed from her face, scowling. The scowl turned into a wince of pain as she attempted to lift herself from the rocky waters but slipped on slime. “ _Ow,_ ” she said. “Okay. I really could use a hand this time.”

“A _hand?_ Villains do not give their hands to people,” said Megamind.

“You seemed to be tripping over yourself to help me out back in there.”

“That was before you _tricked_ me. And I will not be falling for your deceitful acting skills a second time,” Megamind hissed, pointing with all the accusatory power he could muster.

Clunking footsteps grew louder as Minion rushed over. “Oh! _Now_ I remember what a Code Teal is! I think. Isn’t that when somebody—oh…what’s Ms. Ritchi doing down there?”

_“Spying,”_ spat Megamind. “With a rudimentary attempt at disguising herself.”

“Oh for the love of—” Roxanne slapped a hand to her dripping face. “I would swim home if I could,” she muttered. “I’ve had enough of you. _Both_ of you.” She tilted her head lightly to Minion, who looked momentarily hurt. “I don’t even care anymore. I’m calling Metro Man—”

“ _Roxanne!”_ Megamind yelped. “You don’t have to put on the Red Light.”[2]

"Look, I don't have any more time to deal with this. I’m _supposed_ to be at the station at four today.  Not like you know anything about what it's like to have responsibilities. Or a job," she added, giving the stink-eye to the career-villain.

"Pffft.  I could do your job."

Roxanne stared.

"Uh...you heard me," Megamind said, albeit a little more shakily.  "Um.   _Yeah_."  Then Megamind stroked his goatee and whispered to himself, _"...literally_."

Roxanne and Minion exchanged glances, and then the two of them snapped their attention back to Megamind, who was starting to gain momentum on a dangerous train of thought.

"Look. I need to get home, and probably see a doctor—"

"Minion, tell me," interrupted Megamind, "How many years have we been acquainted with Ms. Ritchi?"  He continued without giving his comrade a chance to respond.  "All this time of using her damsel-services, and when have we ever given back?"

There was a brief pause that functioned as that eerie calm before mad scientists blather on about bad ideas.

"I mean—just think about her _insurance!_  The healthcare system in this country really leaves a lot to be desired."

Neither Roxanne nor Minion paid attention as Megamind started a tirade about HMO's and Corporate Evil, but instead they shared a series of nonverbal cues that constituted an entire conversation that flew past the shouting blue villain undetected.

Roxanne, with raised eyebrows, tilted her head at Megamind.   _What is his deal?_

Minion pointed a metallic finger to his bowl, a look of concern on his face.   _Something is wrong with his head._

Roxanne rolled her eyes.   _Obviously._

Minion shrugged and then flung up his arms in defeat.   _It's a long story._

"...and that's why I wish I'd landed in _Canada_ ," Megamind concluded.

There was that moment of silence after which everyone has sufficiently ignored a blathering mad scientist.  "...anyway, what I was really getting to was that Ms. Ritchi needs our help."

"But you just said—"

"Forget what I just said, Ms. Ritchi!  I'm going down there to fetch you!"  Megamind twisted the 'M' insignia on his breast to unlatch his cape and spiked shoulder guards, flung his villainous attire to the rocky ground, and leaped downward to the lake below, losing his balance on the seaweed covered rocks at the waters’ edge. He landed next to Roxanne with a splash.  Roxanne held up an arm to shield herself from the spray.

"Unless you are deceiving me once more, which would be unwise for you and possibly quite deadly, for I am no laughing matter to deal with," said The Master of all Villainy, who now had a great deal of seaweed plastered to his Cranium of Unusual Size, "it appears that you require some assistance in getting out of these waters."

"I—er—I'm fine, really," said Roxanne.

"Nonsense!  I know a damsel in distress when I see one."

"Megamind, I'm never in distress."

"Of course you are!"

"Um, sir," said Minion, "I think Ms. Ritchi knows whether she's distressed or not.  And I can't say I've ever actually _seen_ her—"

"MINION!"  Megamind shouted, turning to the fish with a pout on his pastel-blue face.  If he was going to follow that with anything else, those words had been lost as he struggled to get up, wobbled for a moment, and fell on Roxanne. She pushed him off with a snarl.

Minion sighed.  "I think _both_ of you need assistance," he said.

The fish climbed down to the waters with more expertise than Megamind had, his robotic and gorilla-like body providing him a surprising amount of grace.  He scooped up Megamind and threw the villain over his large shoulder, to which Megamind responded with a muffled _"URH."_

"Ms. Ritchi, I know it is atypical for a villain's sidekick to ask such a question, but do you need a hand?"  Minion asked.

"That would be lovely," said Roxanne.

"How come she's nice to you?"  The upside-down villain groaned.

Minion helped Roxanne to her feet and together, the three of them ascended the rocky banks. Roxanne hung onto Minion's giant robotic arm for support and Megamind hung from Minion's shoulder, seaweed dangling from his head.

When they reached the top of the bank, Minion flung his dripping charge to the ground.

"My boots are _ruined_ ," Megamind groaned.  He pulled one of his boots off and emptied it of water.  "These boots were made for _walking_."

Minion lifted a finger and opened his mouth to respond, but Megamind cut him off with a glare.  "Don't you dare say it."

"Or else," Roxanne quipped, "One of these days his boots are gonna walk all over you."

Megamind flung his arms up in exasperation.  "Can't I just complain about the state of my footwear without everyone turning it into a sing-along?"

"Like you have it bad," said Roxanne.  "My ankle was made for walking.  And _standing_ , which I need to do in order to do my job.  You don't need those boots for anything but looking good."

"Looking bad, you mean," said Megamind.

"You look horrible."

"Why thank you."

"Um, sir, we really need to quit this bickering and get something gone about this situation," Minion prodded.

"You're right," said Megamind.  "It’s our responsibility to do something… _useful_ for Ms. Ritchi."

"Are you serious?"  said Roxanne.

"That's not exactly the most villainous thing to do," added Minion.

Megamind crossed his arms.  "Minion, the ways of Bad are inherently convoluted," he explained.  "You see, er...sometimes one must perform an action which, while appearing good on the surface, ultimately serves the purposes of Evil.  We may be _appearing_ to help Ms. Ritchi, but in reality we will be helping ourselves.  The sooner she gets better, the sooner we will be able to kidnap her and terrorize the city. See?”

 

* * *

 

It is a well-known fact that villains and cats get along quite well.  Any villain who would wish to look sophisticated and well educated in villainous presentation would acquire at least one lap-cat to spend the days with while gazing out of a towering window in a high-backed chair.

Megamind did not own any cats.  In no universe would Minion allow this.  Even his legions of Brainbots were dog-like in behavior, but only because cyborgs that act like cats never get anything done, and Megamind had plenty of Evil chores and upkeep going on around Evil Lair.

Yet the value of cats did not go unnoticed by him.  Science—and that’s Science with a capital S—has proven that the frequency of a cat’s purr is ideal for bone healing and restoration. It is said, "Put a cat in a room with a bunch of broken bones, and the bones will heal."

Megamind did not need cats for first-aid.  He had _technology._

And furthermore, his technology could be fine-tuned so as to be even more concentrated and potent than any naturally produced mammalian vibration.  In the eyes of Not Very Dastardly Science, a mere injured ankle was no issue at all.  Or at least it wouldn't be an issue after about twelve hours or so.  He wasn't sure how long exactly, since he rarely used _Not_ Very Dastardly Science. But either way, it was an improvement over waiting days or weeks.

"Before we move onto the S.P.L.I.N.T.,” he said, tossing aside a box that read: _Severe Pain Limiting Intra-Neural Treatment,_ “I'll have to grab the uh—" Megamind trailed off as he dove head first into the passenger side of the invisible car and fished around in his glove compartment.  "Come on, where is the I.C.E.I.C.E.?"

"I.C.E.I.C.E.?" Roxanne asked.

"It's a wonderful acronym that Sir has come up with," said Minion.  “It stands for Instant Cooling Energy In Case of—"

" _Minion_ ,” Megamind moaned from the car.  He was only visible by the sky-blue feet that were sticking out of it.  "Must you be so loose-lipped?"

Minion and Roxanne only looked at one another.  "Sounds like an improvement over his S.P.I.T. balls from high school," Roxanne said.  "Let me recall.  Saliva-free Plasma for Irritating Teachers?"

"Ah!  There it is!  At last," Megamind heaved.  He emerged from the depths of the unseen vehicle and trotted back toward Roxanne and Minion.  He was holding a small, square black box with an electric blue plus sign on it.  He opened it and retrieved what looked like a tiny squirt-gun, but made of a much more sturdy material.

"Er," said Roxanne, eyeing the device in Megamind's hand. "I appreciate the help, but..." She trailed off.

"But?"

"Nothing you make ever...works as planned," she admitted.  Seeing the resultant look on Megamind's face, she hastily added, "but...I can see why you would have a first-aid kit of Evil, seeing that you do get pummeled on a weekly basis."

"Oh _please_.  We both know that Metro Man is a pro when it comes to stage fighting.  Unlike _some_ people," he added, giving her the stink-eye.

"Is this about that time I knocked out your molar?"

"I was thinking about that time you threw a fork at me, but yes, that too. Now that reminds me of something.”  He leapt to her and pulled back the corner of his mouth with a hooked finger, revealing his gums.  "Shee dish?"

Roxanne leaned away from him, wincing.  She then opened an eye. "What am I supposed to be looking at?"

"My teeth," said Megamind.  "All of them.  Intact.  In case you haven't noticed, I have, through my Science—which according to you never works—grown myself a new one.  You underestimate the power of Science, and that is a deadly fault of yours."

Roxanne raised an eyebrow, not sure whether she should believe him or not—and unsure whether she should be any bit impressed.  As she regarded him, he wordlessly pointed the tiny gun to her ankle and fired.

"Hey!  Ah…oh.  That's an improvement," she said with marked disbelief.  The sensation that spread through her ankle was much superior to being treated with an ice pack.  As a matter of fact, the entire appendage was surrounded by—and as far as she could tell, entirely permeated with a bluish field of energy.  She narrowed her eyes.  "But why?"

"Um, Ms. Ritchi..."  Minion warned.  The fish looked over to his charge tapping a finger to his tank as most people tap a finger to their lips.

Megamind scratched the back of his head with the tiny instrument.  It suddenly dawned on him that he had just been helpful.  He snarled.  "Ms. Ritchi, you disappoint me.  I thought you were on a level above the mindless drones of this sad town.  You of all people should be aware of the boundless powers of Science.”

“Oh dear,” said Minion. He could even hear the capital ‘S’ in Megamind’s voice.

The villain turned to the fish. "Just think, Minion," said Megamind.  "Think of all the work that we’ve _—I've_ put into Science. When ever have we— _I_ been appreciated?”

"And when have you ever done anything worth appreciating?"  Roxanne asked.

"Oh, I'll give you something worth _appreciating,"_ Megamind hissed, pointing a finger so close to Roxanne's nose that her eyes momentarily crossed.  "For instance, how would you appreciate having the day off?"

"Um?"

"Come on, Ms. Ritchi, we all need a break every now and then, and you're a hard-working individual.  And given your current situation, now would be the perfect time for you to obtain a substitute.  Not that there could ever be a suitable substitute to Metrocity's star reporter, especially not in a city filled with mindless drones as this one is.  But," he added, his voice rising in pitch, "there are a few people such as myself who are not so mindless."

The reporter narrowed her eyes.

"Minion," whispered Megamind, "I know I wanted to de-butt my latest invention a little bit later, but," he trailed off, giving a conspiratorial glance at the fish.  "But this could be quite the little adventure."

Megamind turned back to Roxanne, putting a hand on his hip and cocking an eyebrow.  "I know, I know, you are quite the suspicious type, but how would you feel about making a deal with the blue devil?"

"Why do you have to make everything so difficult?  All I have to do is call in and—"

"—Or, leave it all to me.  Just think," he said gesturing to her ankle, "you could get all of that patched up and you wouldn't have to worry about any absences...not with your very own Roxanne Ritchi impersonator on the evening news, right before Lé No."

"It's 'Leno,' " Roxanne said.

"Oh, you Americans and your butchered prune-un-ciation," Megamind snapped.  "This is precisely why I wish we had landed on the other side of the lake," he added, gazing fondly to the north.

"And what is this about an impersonator?"

"Well I'd hate to brag—although in my position I have to brag _constantly_ about my achievements—but I have perfected the art of disguise.  Allow me to demonstrate." He pointed his watch at her and pressed a button.  A scanning beam engulfed Roxanne and she fidgeted, feeling like someone was pricking each atom in her body.  He then twisted the dial of his watch and a holographic glow left behind Megamind's image for an exact duplicate of Roxanne. 

The double cleared its throat but spoke with terrible voice. It wasn’t that Megamind’s voice was _terrible_ , but it really had no business coming out of Roxanne.  " _Herk!_ ...I'd need a suitable sample of your voice in order to get the voice modulator to work, but there're plenty of recordings of that floating around."  He twisted the dial on his watch once again, switching back to his usual image.

Between the the ankle-plasm and the holo-watch, Roxanne wasn't sure what to say in response to Megamind having impressive science for once. 

She glowered.  "There is no possible way for that to _not_ be a disaster,” she said. “And tonight of all nights, I’m doing a report on—”

She froze.

Megamind was digging a pinky in his ear, apparently not listening.

“Hey.” She clapped her hands to get the villain’s attention. “As much as it pains me to say it, this could be... _interesting_.” 

_Oh, it would be bad_ , Roxanne thought. But these days it didn't matter how bad something was as long as it had good ratings.

 

* * *

 

[1] It was definitely Megamind’s.

[2] The Red Light was an app on Roxanne’s phone designed to alert Metro Man of “danger.” “Danger” in this context is defined as Megamind getting lost in his own lengthy ramblings regarding the genius of his latest schemes, and to save everyone from boredom, a method was implemented which allowed Roxanne to contact Metro Man in the event of “danger.” The fact that it blinked red was only a measure that allowed its user to know whether it was active, for Metro Man was the only person around who could hear its sonic screech.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dammnit, it's that Red Light joke again. I don't even know where it started, but I know I've used it in another fic.


	4. The Smoothest Criminal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a throwaway chapter that has nothing to do with the main storyline, Megamind goes to the mall. Disguised, of course.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...and Metro Man (aka Steve Scott) makes his first appearance. Why do I even call him Steve? Who does that? Really. Well get used to it, because this secretly Canadian rascal isn't going away any time soon.

An image of Roxanne primped itself in front of the mirror and then wiped bits of imaginary dust off of its blazer. It was wearing dark grey, which was a drab color, but Megamind dealt with it. Megamind had also obtained several samples of the reporter's voice and the voice modulator was working perfectly in tandem with the hologram.

"Oh Minion," he called, bouncing on the balls of his feet, "this is going to be exciting!  Just look at me, just listen to me!"  He twirled like a Whirling Dervish. Admittedly, hearing the voice replacement was a bit like speaking through helium, but at least the voice matched his new visage.

"Your new disguise generator is impressive, but why haven't you worked out the color of the eyes?"

Roxanne's green-eyed double threw its arms in the air.  "It's hopeless, so far.  You see, the holographic field is a two-way street.  Although it blocks the light reflecting off of my usual image and scrambles it to create a new image, it technically does the same from the inside.  That's not really an issue for the rest of my body, but the image scrambling would be impossible to see through at the eyes—there was no way that I could get the color to supersede my own eye color without impeding my vision. So it’s kind of like having a paper-bag thrown over my face but with holes poked in."

"Well, as long as nobody notices—"

"Nobody will notice, Minion!  Everybody in this city is completely brainless, don't you worry about it."

"I admit it does feel a bit odd to be taking orders from Roxanne Ritchi."

Megamind turned his gaze back to the mirror.  "Indeed, I look dreadful.  This little pointed nose, the shining, er…barbaric hair, these…freck-less.  How do normal people look at themselves in the morning?"

"Well sir, it's good that you have a healthy outlook on what separates us from humans.  We should always put everyone else in their place and remember that perhaps it is they who are the freaks around here—"

"Hmm?  Sorry, I didn't catch that," said Megamind absently. He continued to gaze at his own reflection, turning his face this way and that while winking at himself.  "But how is the real Roxanne doing?"  He hurried back to the fish and placed his hands—painted pink nails and all—on either side of Minion's bowl.

"Um, I'm getting a little uncomfortable with you still looking like—"

"Dammit Minion, just give me a straight answer!"

"She's fine."

"Fine?  What's that supposed to mean?"

"Well, I've cooked up for her a fabulous dinner!  It's really exciting, getting to use my cooking skills for once, seeing as you prefer to eat nothing but Doritos and Pop-Tarts."

"Ugh Minion, have I taught you nothing about hospitality?  Why is she not in the dungeon eating gruel?"

"We don't have a dungeon—"

"Well then build one!"

"Anyway," said Minion, artfully ignoring his charge, "the healing progress is spectacular.  By my estimates, she should be fully recovered by morning—dozens of times faster than ordinary."

Megamind nodded.

"Now will you take off that silly disguise?"  Minion pleaded.

Megamind gazed back at his reflection, frowning.  "Well, I still need it.  Yup.  For...experiments."  He skirted Minion and made to exit the dingy bathroom, with a false smile plastered on his face.

"What kind of experiments?"

"Um.  Social experiments?"

Minion only glared at the green eyed specter.  "You're not going out looking like that, if that's what you're insinuating.  You're already going to make enough of a fool of yourself—and Ms.  Ritchi—by parading yourself on the news."

"Just let me feel beautiful for once!"  Megamind cried.  "I'm going to the mall and you can't stop me!"

"The ma—the mall?  You're not going anywhere looking like that, mister!  Or else you—you're _grounded_."

"You can't ground me. You’re my Minion!  I'm supposed to be calling the shots here and I have some errands to run.  Firstly, I need to get some Evil supplies from the Home De-pot.  And second, I need to get more eyeliner.  Mine is running low, and we have some very big events in the works, as you know.  And what better way to do those things than by going incognito?"

Minion only crossed his arms, which made him look like a bouncer at a bar for fish-gorilla cyborgs.

Roxanne's Evil twin took this as a cue to dash out the room—or at least to attempt to.  Megamind ducked past Minion and lunged for the door.

"Oh no you don't," cried Minion, who shot his robotic arm across the room in an attempt to slam it shut.

Megamind slapped his entire body to the floor.  He slipped his De-gun from its holster and fired, giggling madly as a paper bluejay launched itself from his gun and plastered it onto the front of Minion's bowl with several instant coats of varnish.  "And they say art is useless to the mad-scientist," Megamind sneered.

"Oh that was really—ERRRRGH," groaned Minion.  The fish turned his robotic body backward in order to see through the backside of his bowl—he could chase after Megamind backward if need be.  Regardless, Megamind had been successful at slowing down the fish. The holographic likeness of Roxanne was already hurtling toward the invisible car and by the time Minion had his bearings about him, tires were screeching and Megamind was gone.

 

* * *

 

The mall was a dreadful place.  It was too well-lit.  The tiles gleamed too much.  And there was a fountain.  If it had any redeeming qualities, it was that the building was spacious and had high ceilings.  If it hadn’t been infested with commercialism and humans, it would make an excellent lair.

Walking around as an ordinary human did present some challenges that he had not been expecting:  Namely, mall kiosk salespeople.

The green-eyed holograph wandered aimlessly, which was his first mistake.  Any well-trained mall citizen would know firsthand that one must be constantly vigilant.  It also helped to avoid eye contact with salespeople as much as possible.  Lastly, before any such merchants make eye contact, it is wise for one to duck one's head and swiftly run by or better yet, dive into a nearby store.

A tan-skinned young man with dark curly hair and with stubbly chin and black, v-neck shirt, extended a lotion sample to the aimless Evil Double.

"Er—thanks?"  Megamind blinked, bemused.  The sales associate suavely beckoned him to the kiosk, a fantasy land of nail buffers, facial scrubs, and other overpriced Dead Sea products.  Megamind gawked at everything.

"Tell me, what is your name?"  The salesman said, showing off his exotic accent and taking Megamind's falsely feminine hand in his own, probably to assess how dry his skin was while pretending to flirt.

"Um.  Can't you tell?  I'm the master of all—er, _journalism_.  The one and only," he gestured to himself in vain, seeing that the fragrant man was either not getting it or just getting the holographic reporter to spit it out.  "Roxanne Ritchi?  Maybe you've heard the name."

"Ah, Ms. Ritchi, how could I be so impolite?"  He purred, taking Megamind's hand into his own.  "You look more beautiful in person than I could have ever guessed—I hardly recognized you," he added, now taking that hand and applying a Dead Sea salt scrub onto its surface and rubbing it in.

"Yes, I am pretty stunning, if I'd say so myself," Megamind agreed.

"I have a question for you...Roxanne?  Am I saying that right?"

"Hell if I know, I pronounce everything wrong," said Megamind.

"When was the last time you felt your skin feeling baby smooth?"

"Um.  When I was a baby?  Although to be honest, when you're a baby, you don't really think about those things.  All I really thought about when I was a baby was world domination.  And Pop Tarts.  Pretty much the same as now."

Given the situation that Megamind was currently in, most people would be glancing around uncomfortably and secretly wishing that someone would come up yelling their name and dragging them off.  Megamind, growing increasingly agitated that someone would dare make physical contact with him, ground his teeth in agitation.

He ripped his hand from the fragrant man. “Slow down, _More-Ice_ ,” he said, reading the man’s name-tag carefully. “This whole establishment is capitalizing on people’s desires to be beautiful! Do you have any idea what it’s like to be a freak? To have people take one look at you and only see the worst in you?  Do you have any idea how that shapes people, leads them to have a hardened view of their destiny?  Just because they were treated like _outcasts?_ "

People were beginning to stop and stare, looking at the faux-news reporter and the salesman.

"Because I do," the green-eyed Roxanne spat.  "I know it all too well."  With those words, the doppelgänger reached for the black watch on its wrist, and turned the knob.  A holographic glow left behind the image of Roxanne for the true form of Megamind, who, with his spiked gloves, spiked shoulder-guards, high collar and cape, looked more like an extra-terrestrial rock star than a menacing super villain.

"Look at me," he cried, "I'M A _MONSTER!_ "

Pandemonium ensued.  People scattered.  One person sought shelter behind a cardboard cutout of Metro Man. There were screams.  Somewhere, a baby cried.

Maurice turned to run, but Megamind lunged after him and clutched him by the knees. The two of them toppled to the ground with a crash that revealed Maurice’s _Space Cowboy_ boxers. "Don't leave me," Megamind panted.  "You're my only hope of feeling _radiant!_ "

 

* * *

 

Megamind appeared with a sudden flash and the sound of J-Pop.  He stepped out of the invisible car wearing not his ordinary spiked gloves but his fingerless versions.  He slammed the door behind him, mindful of his newly buffered nails.

"I see you're back to your old self." Minion stood waiting for him, his bowl recently scraped of glue and varnish, tapping a metallic foot against the ground.  

"Old self?   _Old self?_ "  Megamind gestured to all of him.  "How dare you?"  He shoved his fingernails into Minion's face.  "Look at me!  I am stunning!  The nails, the smooth skin...I am going to be the most fashionable villain on the block.  When the citizens of Metrocity see me, they will bow and weep at their well-groomed evil overlord."

Minion rolled his eyes at his charge.  "And I trust that you'd gotten yourself a new goatee-comb while you were at it?"

Megamind only glowered.

Brushing past Minion, he said in a clipped voice, "I'm telling you, I have only...misplaced the past five.  But I'd gotten myself another one just in case," he added, ducking back and checking his reflection in the side mirror of the invisible car, stroking his goatee and frowning.

Minion gazed into the invisible car. “And what else have you got in there? _Dead Sea Salts?_ ”

“What else would you expect, Minion? Now nothing stands in my way of being the smoothest criminal!” 

 

* * *

 

Roxanne sat eating _Crème Brûlée_ while Minion channel surfed.  "Prepare for the show of your life," she said through a mouthful.

"Ms. Ritchi, I don't know what troubles me more:  Sir's plan, or the fact that you're so nonplussed."

Roxanne drummed her fingers to her lips, frowning.  She would never admit it, but she was beginning to regret her decision to be so lax with the villain.  After all, he was a Villain. 

"Don't worry about it," she said, trying to hide her shaking voice. 

Minion gave her the kind of glum look that only a fish can give.

"Okay, fine,” she said. “I have an idea. While it probably won't keep Megamind from looking like a _total_ embarrassment, it should keep him from...trying to take over the city, or anything dumb like that.”  She unlocked her cell phone and typed, grinning all the time.  

 

* * *

 

Steve Scott, or as he was better known, Metro Man, pressed a finger to his lips as he pondered a question of great import. And as far as “import” went, it _was_ true that 80% of pure maple syrups were imported from Canada. But it was crucial that he make the right decision. Nothing could make or break a well-balanced breakfast quite like maple syrup.

One might call it odd that he would have such delicate taste in these matters. Yet most residents of Metro City would hardly be surprised. It was oft said of Steve Scott, behind his back, “He’s so mild mannered. He must be… _Canadian._ ”

Due to Metro City’s vicinity to the border, it is surprising that more of its residents weren’t similarly under the Canadian influence. Yet somehow the breeze from the North, as it wafted over The Great Lakes, had a special effect on the hero’s gentle soul.

The soothing sound of a Tibetan singing bowl brought him to the present. He gazed ahead serenely for a moment before remembering that it was his text message alert tone. He fished his phone from his pocket and read a message from Roxanne, muttering as he read.

“Megamind…the _news?_   Weird disguise thingy…”

Steve was long accustomed to Megamind’s outrageous shenanigans. After all, the villain’s maniacal deeds were simply part of the little joys that life had to offer. A plot that _Roxanne_ was in on was just plain unnatural. It was almost as unnatural as _maple-flavored syrup,_ the kind of syrup that was sweetened with refined sugars or high-fructose corn syrup. Barbaric, really. On second thought, few things were quite as unnatural as _that._

 


	5. Bad News

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Megamind is Bad News. No, really. He doesn't do a very good job at The News. Nah, just kidding. He's an excellent news reporter, for a given value of "excellent." Well, at least when the green-eyed hologram does the news in Roxanne's place, the ratings are probably through the roof.

“Metro City is buzzing with excitement over the fast approaching date that seems to be on everyone’s minds lately: Metro Man Day. I’m standing here in front of what is to become the Metro Man Museum, where construction staff is laboring feverishly to—UGH. Who writes this crap? _This_ is what I’m going to be reading on _air?_ ”

“I thought _you_ wrote it,” said Roxanne’s fill-in cameragirl.[1]

Megamind had witnessed Roxanne complaining about her camera-human, and quite frankly, he saw no issue with _this_ one. She spoke frequently about such topics as sustainable agriculture and alternative forms of energy. That sounded like Science. Furthermore, he had no idea what she was talking about, and if _he_ didn’t know what she was talking about, it had to be some _Damn Good Science_. Plus, he could tell, even from a distance, that she was wearing Custom Baby Seal Leather Boots—and by “Custom Baby Seal Leather Boots,” Megamind _always_ meant: “Boots Made From Recycled Car Tires.” Then there was the matter with her name, or her assumed name: Yellow Starshine. _Starshine._ Was that German? Sure sounded like it. And while many of his Tesla Coils and Blinky Dials were supplied from an outlet store in Romania, many of his higher-end building materials were shipped in from Germany. So, all in all, Yellow seemed to be a terrific individual to be acquainted with.

“I… _did?”_ Megamind stammered. “On second thought, this is damn good writing if I say so myself, it just needs a bit more… _punctuation_. Give it more zing, yeah. Who wants to listen to the news when it sounds so monotone? D’you have a pen on you?”

“ _Do I?_ ” Yellow beamed. “Only _just_ got my biodegradable soy-ink pens in the mail today,” she gushed, reaching into the pocket of her ruffled, peacock-colored skirt and tossing one over to Megamind. The writing utensil soared through the air with the wafting scent of Nag Champa incense.

“Perfect,” said Megamind. “Now what this script needs is more… _exclamation points,”_ he muttered, doodling. “And CAPSLOCK. Nothing grabs audience attention like some well-placed CAPSLOCK. And underlining… _triple_ underlining in some places. It’s all about _PRESENTATION._ ”

 

* * *

 

“Don’t you listen to them. Don’t you ever listen to them,” Roxanne reassured Minion.

“Oh it’s no use, Ms. Ritchi,” Minion sighed. “Things are getting very political over there now that election season is coming around.”

Minion was not talking about The League of Inept Villains, which Megamind had been the president of for seven years running, but rather Mrs. Worcestershire’s Knitting Club, which met on Sunday afternoons at Metro Library. How a group of old ladies accepted a space-fish in a gorilla suit into their ranks was a mystery, but Roxanne didn’t press the matter.

A buzzing from Roxanne’s phone made her jump. She glanced at the message.

 

> Steve: [and…you’re okay with this?]

> Roxanne: [eh. maybe once you’ve been kidnapped 1500 times and tied to more explosives than you’d find in a fireworks depot…how do I give a shit about anything anymore?]  
>  [Hey if you want, you can keep an eye on him]

> Steve: […and see his horrible acting first-hand?]

> Roxanne: [You know it would be a riot]  
>  [Oh god]  
>  [I just thought of something. hear me out on this]

> Steve: [don’t]

> Roxanne: [megz totally thinks we’re dating, right?]  
>  [so what if]

> Steve: [I don’t like where this is going]

> Roxanne: [come on. you know you want to flirt with him and watch him squirm]

> Steve: [hrrrrrrrrrngh]

> Roxanne: [after all he puts this city through?]

> Steve: [well. you’re right about that]  
>  [but…it’s not on my to-do list]

> Roxanne: [what could possibly be on your to-do list?]

Roxanne continued to type:

 

> [Heroic To-Do List:  
>  1\. Be fabulous  
>  2\. Fight crime  
>  3\. …?  
>  4\. Did I mention how fabulous I am?]

> Steve: […]  
>  [um. NO…]  
>  [don’t be ridiculous]

Steve looked at the post-it note stuck to the back of his shopping list, which was eerily similar to Roxanne’s message, and crumpled it in his hand. Then he replied:

 

> [okay, fine]  
>  [I’ll do the thing]  
>  [but if I wake up next to him tomorrow]  
>  [it’s your fault]

> Roxanne: [well it’s about time you had a date]

 

* * *

 

As unusual as this performances was fated to become, few people in the city were quite aware that there was any substantial shift in “Roxanne’s” reporting style, for she was flamboyant enough on her own.[2]

“Humans of Metro…CITY,” Megamind strained to get the syllables out of his mouth, “as you are _probably_ aware, although I daresay I have little understanding of what you _are_ aware of, although I digress, uh…people seem to be really into Metro Man Day, which is great and all. I _do_ suppose his heart is in the right place, at least. And by that I mean his heart…is like a four chambered organ that contracts in never ending sequences moving blood from the right atrium and through the tricuspid valve and off to the right ventricle where it then makes its journey—On second thought, maybe we can’t be entirely sure of the exact anatomy of his heart, or if he has only one. But we can certainly be sure that this heart—or _hearts_ is…or are in the right place…places? But, y’know, he does have X-Ray vision, so maybe we could ask him to look _into_ his heart and tell us what he finds. Until then, to help us make sense of this heroic and villainous world we live in, I have with me the ever knowledgeable and possibly dusty: Bernard _GRUMBLES._ ”

“How many times do I have to tell people it’s pronounced Groom- _BLEY_ ,” Bernard Grumblés grumbled off-camera.

The tasteless Roxanne impersonator cleared its throat. “ _Khm._ So, Mister _Crumples_ , being the expert on villainy that you are, what are your predictions on the future of _Eeevil?_ ”

Bernard, who had already accepted that the reporter would never get his name right, opened his mouth to respond, only to find himself getting cut off by Metro City’s latest Roxanne Ritchi cosplayer. This too, he allowed without much protest beyond and exaggerated rolling of the eyes and an audible sigh.

“Because allow _me_ to be the first to say: There is no prediction for _Eeevil._ Mere _humans_ cannot grasp its nature. _Hwhy,_ you could even be talking to the very face of _Eeevil_ yourself, Mister—er— _Crummy._ First,” Megamind continued, “it will take on a most innocent guise, as all the Best Evil does. But _True_ Evil enters into the hearts and minds of millions. It takes over your television sets, your movie screens…perhaps even your _dreams_. Well, probably not your dreams. The science is a bit tricky when it comes to that. But still: One can never be too vigilant. For all I know, even _you_ could be the Master of all Villainy in disguise, Mister _Grumpus_ , if that’s even your _real_ name,” Megamind hissed.

“That _isn’t_ my real name,” Bernard Not-Grumpus groaned.

“A-ha!” Shouted Megamind. “And where were you on the night of the twenty-fifth?”

“This _is_ the night of the twenty-fifth.”

“ _Precisely!_ ”

Bernard Grumblés sighed. “If ‘The Master of All Villainy’ as you so delicately put it _were_ clever enough to pull such a move, I’d have to say I’d be impressed, for _once_.”

“What do you _mean_ for once?” The uncharacteristically maniacal reporter turned to the dull-eyed archivist, eyes narrowed.

“Well, first of all, it would be quite the accomplishment, not that _I_ ever pay much heed to our local media. Anyone _civilized_ gets their information from a number of well-trusted international news sources.”

Megamind blinked. “Did you just…insult _our_ news?” He whispered. “I…but I’m _on_ the news,” he said. “I’m not just _on_ the news. I _AM_ THE NEWS! And all mortals will cower, quaking with fear…at the all powerful NEWWW—”

♦♦

Hundreds of monitors reflected off of the glass of Minion’s fish-bowl while he gazed open-mouthed as though he’d been beached. “So what do you think of your replacement, Ms. Ritchi?”

They watched again in silence as the reporter signed off with jazz-hands and the catch-phrase, “Stay jazzy, Metrocity!”

“Well,” Roxanne said, “I’m sure he did wonders for our ratings.”

 

* * *

 

The green eyed abomination sat gazing dreamily into the mirror of Roxanne's dressing room.  During his reverie, Megamind hadn't noticed the large figure that was leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed and a smirk on his face.

Steve had changed into one of his 'average civilian outfits,' which often consisted of Hawaiian shirts and, on sunny days, cool shades.  After all, nobody ever expects heroes to wear Hawaiian shirts.  Granted, everybody knew who he was, but there was a general agreement amongst the populace not to bother the hero while he was conspicuously attempting to be inconspicuous.

Maybe if he grew a beard, then he could be even more disguised, he thought. Plus, he'd often wondered how he would look if he grew one out.  Maybe someday, if he skipped town and left the Metro Man visage behind...

But in any event, this wasn't about him and whether he would look significantly better with facial hair, but about messing with Megamind.  Well, maybe not too much.  Megamind was pretty clueless when it came to the mechanics of human relationships, but even then, it would be a stretch to feign any attraction toward Roxanne. Furthermore, if he tilted his head and squinted with X-Ray vision, he could make out the form of Megamind in slight wavy lines.

Megamind had excellent fingernails underneath there.  It wasn't altogether surprising, but it was curious.  He would have to find out Megamind's secret one of these days, although it hardly seemed an appropriate topic for small talk whilst hauling the villain back to prison by the scruff of his neck, and those were the only times that the two of them ever really talked outside of witty banter.

He cleared his throat.  "Roxanne," he said simply, letting the baritone of his voice fill the room.

Megamind spun.  In an instant he was facing his visitor, hands clenched against the armrests of the office chair.  "What?  What do you want—er—uh, hi," he sputtered.

Megamind coughed, then stood and straightened himself in front of the hero, trying with all his might to avoid giving him the stink-eye.  "Mm—Mr. Scott," he replied curtly, raising his chin.  "What brings you here?"

"Oh Roxie, let's stop playing these games."

"Games?"  Megamind's voice, still altered to sound like Roxanne's, continued to rise in pitch nevertheless.

Steve put a hand to his mouth, forcing down a grin.  He transformed the motion into a scratching of the chin.  "It has been too long, Roxanne," he sighed.

"What has?  Er—can we fix it?  I have garden clippers," Megamind said, scrunching his Roxanne-esque eyebrows.

Steve opened his mouth to say something, but no words came out for several moments.  "Um, no," he said finally, running a hand down his face.  "It's been too long since—since," he stammered, waving his hands helplessly.  "It's been too long since," he leaned in, regaining his composure, and shifting his eyes, added "since a certain foxy reporter made Justice go blind... _with passion._ "

Roxanne's double stared, slowly absorbing his words.  "Well," Megamind drawled, "I, er, wouldn't think of sending blind Justice home without...uh, the seeing eye dog of my da—damsel-ish...charm?"  He squeaked.

"Right," said Steve, nodding and then pursing his lips and then letting them go with a pop.  "Then we agree."

"Of course we agree," said the creature masquerading as Roxanne.  "Isn't that what...lovers do?"

"Among other things," Steve added.

"Like Jenga?  At my place?"  The hologram's head was tilted at a full forty-five degrees.  "Or your place?"

"Um."  Steve considered this for a moment.  He wasn't entirely sure how he felt about inviting the villain over.  He was, after all, a Villain.  Turn his back for one moment, and Megamind was likely to go snooping around in some vain search of the hero's weakness. And he’d probably take his fluffy cape, too. On the other hand, he couldn't exactly condone Megamind breaking into Roxanne's apartment for the sake of hanging out.

 

* * *

 

Breaking in and entering. Justice didn’t do that, Steve thought sullenly. But then again, sporting his seafoam hued shirt—which Megamind would have to reluctantly admit was Tiffany Blue—along with his currently less-than-perfect-hair, he was…off duty? Megamind’s behavior was atrocious, but he couldn’t help but admire the little guy’s precision.

“Oh! I just have to uh…wiggle the key a bit, as usual. You know how these things get stuck,” Roxanne’s poor impersonator said over his shoulder. Megamind hunched over the doorknob in an effort to hide any prying eyes, an effort which should have been fruitless considering that his companion had X-Ray vision. Knowing what Megamind was doing anyway, Steve tactfully looked in the opposite direction.

“Almost got it,” Megamind shouted, trying to mask the low hum being generated by his Lock S.M.I.T.H.[3] technology. Once again, the shouting was useless considering the acute hearing of his companion, but Steve simply whistled an off-key tune to himself as he gazed leisurely down the hall.

“Right!” Megamind said at last, when the lock audibly clicked and he flung the door inward. He stepped into the room and clapped his hands twice.

Nothing happened.

“She doesn’t have a clapper? Er— _I_ don’t have a—I _mean_ …damn thing is busted!”

Steve, rolling his eyes, stepped into the room and flicked on the lights. Megamind spun. “So _that’s_ where the light switch is,” he said, blinking owlishly. “I’m so forgetful! What with this…constant fear that I live in,” the false-Roxanne swooned, rushing over to rest a hand on Steve’s bulky arm. “You know, because of all that terrifying _Eeevil_ that lurks… _menacingly!_ Whatever would I do without you, my er—er— _Muscles McChin?_ ”

Steve pulled his arm out of Megamind’s grasp, lifting a hand to his face. “Er…that’s quite the pet name,” he said, resting his knuckles underneath his mouth to hide as much of his aforementioned chin as possible. “But of course I’d do anything for the, um. The most, er,” he stammered, motioning vaguely to Megamind, and then, catching a glimpse of a nearby potted _aloe vera_ plant, added, “The most… _succulent_ reporter in this city.”

“Neato!” Megamind beamed. The imitation reporter took a dive to a nearby couch and kicked his legs up. Steve stood, burying his face into his hand. He looked back up and cleared his throat. “Um. Mind if I use your bathroom real quick?”

“Why are you asking m—oh. Down the hall, to your second…oh, you _know,_ lover.”

“Of course, my… _queen,_ ” Steve purred, brushing past and turning to wink at Megamind at the word “queen.” He rushed down the hall and crashed into a doorway, falling not into the bathroom, but a coat closet. He fished out his cell phone from his pocket and made to text Roxanne, the glow of the screen illuminating the tiny space that his hulking frame was miraculously stuffed in.

 

> Steve: [Damn it, rox]  
>  Roxanne: [enjoying your date?]

If he could have glared at her, he would have.

 

> Roxanne: [So where’d you take him?]

He froze, biting his lip. [oh quit calling it a date], he shot back.

 

> Roxanne: [so you ARE with him]  
>  [some hero/villain bonding time? I’m not cutting into your quality time, am I?]

He perked up again, suddenly remembering that he was leaving Megamind alone in Roxanne’s apartment. Steve squinted with X-Ray vision over to the living room, to see that Megamind had disappeared. He continued to glance around in search of the villain, accidentally focusing past too many walls to find a questionably fit elderly lady getting her grove on to a jazzercise video. He shook his head, shutting his eyes and gnashing his teeth. Steve opened his eyes once more and refocused them to find an image of the holographic Roxanne rooting through the real Roxanne’s liquor cabinet.

 

> Steve: [yes you ARE]

With that, he pocketed the phone and stumbled out of the closet.

Steve padded down the hall and halted in the doorway at the sight of Megamind seated in front of Roxanne’s coffee table. He poured one drink for himself and another for his nemesis. “Yeah, so I’d forgotten that I had this bottle of…COG-KNACK,” Megamind said, running a finger beneath the name and reading slowly.

Steve pursed his lips and raised his eyebrows. “COG-KNACK, eh? What’s the occasion?”

“Oh, you know,” said Megamind, “to celebrate our undying love, as usual.”

“Well, I can think of a few other ways to celebrate our love,” purred Steve. He wasn’t entirely sure what possessed him to take this next step, but nevertheless Steve plopped himself onto the couch next to Megamind and placed a burly arm around the holographic reporter.

Megamind shot upwards like an impatient slice of toast. “I suddenly need to go to the bathroom!” He yelped.

Stumbling in the process, the villain scampered into the hall from whence Steve came. “Maybe later tonight I can join you in that bathroom,” Steve called after him.

Megamind froze and then spun to face the hero, wide-eyed. “That would be… _unsanitary,_ ” he gasped. Just as swiftly as he’d turned to face Steve, he spun back and resumed his panicked hallway retreat which ended with a stumble and a crash into the very closet that Steve had occupied.

Megamind hissed into his watch. “Minion! Status update.”

“Sir?” Minion’s voice cracked over the device.

“This is brilliant, and…invigorating, and… _terrifying_ all at once!”

“Uh- _huh_ ,” the fish replied, not entirely surprised.

“Okay, okay,” said Megamind, lowing his voice to a whisper, as though Steve had any inclination to listen. “This could be the most dastardly plan to date! I lower Metro Man’s inhibitions with my—um, _Roxanne’s_ alluring beauty and mind-altering substances, AND THEN…!”

“Then what, sir?”

“Um. I don’t _know._ This is all moving so fast! He’s…well…he’s making me feel so many… _feelings…_ that I’ve never felt before! And he smells like a mixture of…Earl Grey tea and lavender. With a hint of _jazz-mine_. Is that his natural musk? I never thought such a gentle scent could emanate from such a…”

Megamind heard a guffaw rise from his watch. It was not Minion’s voice but Roxanne’s, deep in the distance. “Hey! Are you allowing _Roxanne_ to listen to this? This is top secret stuff!” He shrieked.

Had Megamind been listening to Roxanne’s living room, he would have heard a similar guffaw coming from Steve. The giggling superhero, during Megamind’s absence, had been texting Roxanne.

 

> Steve: [he wants to get me drunk XD]
> 
> Roxanne: [oh god. one drink and you’re dead]

He pursed his lips. This was a fib that even Roxanne had never gotten to the bottom of. The fact of the matter was that alcohol had a negligible effect on Steve at most. However, he’d had every acquaintance of his convinced that the exact _opposite_ was true. His alien biology, he’d explained, had hardly any tolerance to the substance. It was an unlikely lie, but considering that he was _Metro Man_ , people had a subconscious tendency to believe him on principle.

On one hand, the ruse made for some hilarious acting but on the other hand it _did_ give him ample room for getting things off of his chest. People had a greater tolerance for listening to a person’s blubbering when they believed said person was drunk. They were even _more_ likely to listen to such blubbering when they were drunk and blubbering themselves, which was typically the case in such situations.

 

> Steve: [I doubt Megz can hold his liquor either]
> 
> Roxanne: [well if you wake up in bed with him don’t say I didn’t warn you]

Just as he was shaking his head at this warning, his acute ears picked up a snippet of Megamind’s conversation. “…I never thought such a gentle scent could emanate from such a…”

Steve snorted. His hand slipped from his phone as he attempted to respond to Roxanne’s latest message. Little did he know that Roxanne was laughing at the same time, for the same reason.

Steve’s ears pricked as he heard Megamind’s voice, as though he were three feet away, exclaim, “but anyway, just think about it, Minion! With his inhibitions released, I could wrest so many secrets from his grip!”

 

> Roxanne: [release your inhibitions! feel the rain on your skin]
> 
> Steve: [I’m done with both of you]
> 
> Roxanne: [Admit it. I’m a matchmaker]
> 
> Steve: [hurrrgh]
> 
> Roxanne: [no one else can feel it for you. only you can let it in]
> 
> Steve: [cut it out]
> 
> Roxanne: [no one else, no one else…]

The green-eyed Roxanne appeared on the lip of the hall, smoothing over his holographic hair in a manner he believed to be flirtacious. It was a valiant attempt, considering his lack of experience with hair that didn’t cover his chin. Wordlessly he slinked into the room, swishing his temporarily round hips back and forth, and took a seat on the edge of the couch, crossing one leg over the other. With sultry eyes fixed on Steve, Megamind reached a hand into a nearby bowl of potpourri and brought some of its contents to his mouth. His face, sly at first, turned sour and then confused as he chewed. His chewing halted, and then continued, eyebrows scrunched, resolving in an uncomfortable gulp and a wince.

“These are some _weird_ chips,” he said. “Try one,” he added, handing the bowl over to Steve.

“Uh, no thanks,” Steve coughed, waving the bowl away. “Gotta stay…gluten free,” he added.

“Really?” Megamind blinked. “Your glutes look great to me.”

Steve, who had been sipping his drink, nearly choked on his gulp. “Um, well, uh… _thanks._ But, well now… _your_ glutes, those are really, um… _something,_ ” he said, waving his hand helplessly in the air, not sure anymore if he was complimenting Megamind or Roxanne. “Best damn glutes _I’ve_ ever seen.”

“But that’s statistically unlikely!” Megamind yelped, standing up. “I mean, first of all, consider the proportions of your _own_ musculature! Have you _seen_ your ass? And don’t you work out or something? Certainly you see parades of well-sculpted rear-ends in the kinds of places where you hang out!”

Steve slapped a hand to his mouth to keep the COG-KNACK from erupting out of his face. He gulped and said, “You make some valid arguments but what I mean is: _Your_ butt, with all of its… _roundness_ …is the _only_ butt for me.”

“ _Ohhhh!_ ” said Megamind, trying his best to feign sudden comprehension. “It happens to be the only butt that I own, as well.”

There wasn’t much to say to a statement like that. Furthermore, Steve was anxious to get off the topic of anatomy. It was a slippery slope. He gazed at his beverage pensively, not needing X-Ray vision to admire how light passed through the amber liquid. “How rude of me. To begin drinking before proposing a toast.” He reached for a remote and turned the TV to the Jazz Channel without even looking. “A toast. With _jam_.”

Megamind stared for a long moment.

“You know… _jam?_ ” Steve jerked a thumb at the TV.

The villain looked from the hero to the TV and then back again. “Oh! That’s a _pune_ , that is,” he said, tapping the side of his nose conspiratorially. “I propose a toast, then, to my hero.” He leaned in against Steve and lifted his glass in the air, expecting a resultant _clink._

Steve raised not his glass but an eyebrow. “And what if I wanted to toast to you?”

Megamind detached himself from Steve. “Aha! And how quickly the _toaster_ shall become the _toastee!_ Fine. Whatever.”

The hero and villain clinked glasses, and while neither was entirely certain who was doing the toasting and who was getting toasted, they both seemed to have an unspoken agreement not to press the matter.

 

* * *

 

[1] Hal Stewart was out for the night, but mostly because the author of this fic wishes to make it clear that he does not deserve to be included.

[2] Roxanne’s mother, Rita Ritchi, had a fondness for telanovelas. Afternoons spent watching Univision catapulted Roxanne into an early childhood full of outlandish acting and absurd scriptwriting. The damsel and villain had much more in common than they realized, for Megamind’s prison uncles were fond of the same programming.

[3] Shapeshifting Malleable Insertable Thievery Helpmate


	6. Cog Knack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wheeeeeeeeeeee! Whooooops.

A hop, skip, and a jump.  Click-clack-click.  Roxanne maneuvered a red marble across the board, hopping over a multicolored assortment of marbles.  Chinese checkers.  They weren't even Chinese.  They weren't even checkers.

With four of the players being Brainbots, Roxanne and Minion had plenty of time to talk amongst themselves.

"I didn't think it was possible, but Sir has gone from bad to worse," said Minion.  Click.

"I dunno.  Seems like an improvement to me.  I'd like to see what kind of blubbering mess he and Steve get into by the end of the night."  Click-click.

"Steve?"  Click.

"Oh, don't act like you don't know his name, Minion."  Click-click-click-clack-click.  BOWG!  Roxanne turned to the self-satisfied Brainbot, in charge of the blue marbles, who had just executed a maneuver into its goal at the opposite end of the star.  Its chief opponent, the Brainbot in charge of the white marbles, looked mildly perturbed.  Roxanne had never realized that it was possible for a Brainbot to look mildly perturbed.

"Well, I hardly ever see anyone call him that," protested the fish.  Click-click.

"I think that's the whole thing that bothers him."  Click.  "Call it a hunch.  And by hunch, I mean:  Get a few drinks in him, and the guy won't shut up about his _feelings._   I think sometimes he wants to get away from the whole 'Metro Man' thing.  Doesn't Megamind ever get tired of playing the villain?"

This statement was met by a resounding gasp from Minion and a string of alarmed BOWGS from the Brainbots.  "Inconceivable!"  Minion breathed.  "By the way, it's your turn."

"Oh."  Roxanne calculated for a moment.  Click-click.  "There."  Roxanne frowned.  "Well...what if things had turned out differently for us all?  Oh come on, don't tell me Megamind never mumbles in his sleep about parallel universes."

“Oh, don’t be silly, Ms. Ritchi,” Minion huffed.

“…Or time-travel paradoxes? Come on, he must be up to his eyeballs in that kind of stuff.”

“Well, maybe as a theoretical possibility at most, but as far as I know, Sir hasn’t found any _practical_ uses for such science as far as his villainy is concerned.”

“Oh, enough with all this villainy! Isn’t there anything else he would want to do?”

“Be an international dance craze, perhaps,” Minion muttered.

Roxanne crossed her arms. “Without stating the obvious.”

 

* * *

 

Megamind's mental processes were swimming with temporal distortions, but, he assured himself, he was always in control of his brain.  If anyone should have been concerned about mental processes, it was Steve.  They had already plowed through the COG-KNACK and a bottle of MUSKRAT-BLANK, which in Megamind's increasingly addled mind caused a fair bit of confusion.  Didn't "muskrat" have an "r" in it?"  Hmm.  It must have been one of those implied letters.  If some letters could be silent, then certainly others could be implied, right?

It was doubly difficult to think about such matters when he could barely hear his own thoughts above the muffled sobs of Steve, who presently had his face buried in Megamind's shoulder.

"I wonder if Megamind's ever realized how much he really meant to me during all these years," the hero sniffed.  "Do you think he...feels the same way about me?"  Steve bit down a grin and lifted his head to gaze into Megamind's eyes.

Megamind gaped.  "Um," he gulped, not sure whether he stomach was turning into a master gymnast because of the alcohol or because of other reasons.  "I’dv’dv’ve say, if I’er Meg’mind, that you have...what's the word...no, he admires um, whatever...er..."

He was not aware enough to be troubled by the fact that the GPS of his internal monologue was getting fed up with his mouth's tendency to take the wrong turn.  "If’n I was Meg’mind, I'd say...I'd say... ye have...damn good dental habits, yep.  I mean, I'm saying that 'nyway.  You gargle bleach or somefinf?"

Steve pursed his lips as he attempted to follow the meandering mental processes of the villain’s mind.  Megamind's train of thought, not to his surprise, had derailed and was plummeting into a rocky gorge.  Ordinarily his powers would make him the perfect candidate for preventing a train wreck, but this was one impending disaster that even Metro Man was powerless against.  Megamind liked his teeth?  Well as long as they weren't talking about other parts of his anatomy, this was an improvement.

"I wish I could just talk to him," Steve sighed a little too expansively.  "With none of this hero-villain stuff getting in the way.  There are so many great things about the little guy.  I mean, no one ever gives Evil Mad-Scientists enough credit for their work."

"Damn right!"

"But there's so much he could do.  By the looks of it, he seems to work non-stop.  And just for being a villain?  Come on.  Just think of the contributions he could make for Science."

"You mean like a career in...Non-Evil Mad Science?"  Megamind ventured.

"It's food for thought."

"A...Mad Science business...hmmm.  But, I dunno...Megamind _is_ pretty Evil.  Then again there are plenty of Evil businesses, right?  Oh!  I've got it!  I could fight Corporate Evil," Megamind announced, standing up and promptly falling over.  "I mean... _he_ could fight Corporate Evil," he corrected himself, face on the floor.

"But Roxy—"

"That's _Foxy Roxy_ to you, Wonderchin!"  Megamind snapped.  With those words he bolted upright and narrowly avoided falling over for a second time.

"Okay...Foxy Roxy," said Wonderchin.  "But what exactly constitutes Good and Evil anyway?  Who are we to judge—"

"Don't get philosophical with me, _Steve_ ," Megamind proclaimed, shoving a finger into the hero’s face.

"I thought it was Wonderchin."

"Whatever," Megamind waved a hand.  "Look.  I've had it up to here with Evil.  Villains thinking they can do whatever they want, see?  Why, the _nerve_ of Megamind.  Do you know that he once kidnapped me while I was buying food for my cat?"

"Foxy, you don't have a cat."

Foxy looked around.  "Oh.  Um.  Someone else's cat.  Your...cat?"

"Right."  Steve said.

"And he chipped my nail once," Megamind fumed.  "I think it's about time we got back at him, taught him a lesson.  Give him a taste of his own medicine!"

Steve gaped.  " _You_ want to teach Megamind a lesson."

"But of course!  Nobody should want ra-vaunge on him like I!"

"Oh...kay."  He squinted at Megamind, finding that beneath his false exterior he was flushing bright fuchsia.

It had occurred to Steve that Megamind was already being pranked as it was.  And creeping somewhere on the edge of his thoughts was the uncomfortable feeling that the real Roxanne was the mastermind of this plot.

Outwardly, he wore a mask of polite interest.  "So what?  You want to prank him?"

"Oh what a brilliant idea, dearest!  Yes, it could be a prank most foul," he gushed.  Megamind grabbed a stick of eyeliner from his pocket and started scribbling on Roxanne's coffee table.  "For instance!  Somehow we, uh...line everything in his kitchen with aluminum foil!  So that he can be...foiled again!"

Steve coughed.

"Well, you know.  Only I would think of it, since I'm his intellectual foil," Megamind added, motioning to himself. “Oh, _fine._ What if I…er…bamboozled him? Fill a closet with bamboo?”

Steve crossed his arms.

“Well I’d like to see what _you_ could think of,” Megamind huffed.

“Well,” Steve said, “if you really want to go all out on the guy, you could always create a thyme travel paradox.”

“But the science is impossible!”

“I said a _thyme_ travel paradox, not a _time_ travel paradox.” Steve clarified. “Here, let me see that,” he added, taking the stick of eyeliner from the bemused villain’s fingers. He gazed at the coffee table, frowning. “On second thought, let me get some _actual_ writing utensils.”

Steve disappeared with a rainbow flash and appeared a moment later with a pad of post-it-notes and a pen. “See? It’s like this,” he said, doodling a delivery truck that said “Thyme Travel” on the side of it. “Find a delivery truck that ships herbs and vegetables…”

“…Hack into their GPS system, and have them dump loads of fresh produce on his hideout!” Megamind shouted. “You’re a _genius!”_ Megamind placed both hands on the sides of Steve’s face and sloppily administered a kiss on his nose.

Steve fell backward, or at least he came the closest to "falling" backward as he possibly could while trying to appear clumsy, as drunk people are prone to doing.  Instead, he did a reverse somersault in the air and then floating above the floor, waving his arms about and shouting, "UUUUURRRGHHHH!  It's happened again!"

"What's happened?"  Megamind asked.

"My floating!  I've lost control of my floating!"

"Your...floating?"  Megamind straightened up, gaping at Steve with scientific fascination.

"Yes!  This always happens when I drink too much," groaned Steve, who was ascending and turning aimlessly as though in orbit.

"What am _I_ supposed to do?"  Megamind breathed.

"You know!  Grab the butterfly net!  You don't want this to be like that time at your cousin's wedding."

"Oh...?  Right, right," Megamind murmured.  "Let me just go get that, then."  Roxanne's stunt double then proceeded to trip over his own feet on his way to the hall, attempted to catch himself on a nearby lamp, which accomplished nothing but a "Whooooah!" and the tinkle of broken glass as both villain and lamp were introduced to the ground.

Steve bit his lip to avoid commentary and focused his energy on continually pretending to be helpless.  "Hurry, Roxanne!  We don't have much time," he gurgled, floating toward Roxanne's balcony doors as though being summoned by whatever forces were responsible for the destinies of balloons lost to the sky and, apparently, drunken superheroes who were soon to leave Earth's orbit.

"Thyme?  You're talking about _thyme_ at a time like this?  Hic—" slurred Megamind, who stood up again and was swaying precariously as he giggled to himself.  "This is no time for thyme, aha, aha..."

He flung himself into Roxanne's kitchen.  Steve cringed at the cacophonous crash that was undoubtedly an avalanche of pots and pans, as Megamind searched for a device with which he could capture the runaway hero.  "Doesn't seem to be any rope in here," murmured the pile of cookware.

"Roxanne, I'm almost gone!" Steve shrieked from the balcony.

"Uh, I'm on my way," replied Megamind, stumbling out of the kitchen sporting a colander-helmet and wielding a pair of tongs.  He adjusted his metallic headgear to see that Steve was now holding onto the balcony railing, legs kicking in the air as gravity continued to fail him.

"You're not floating away on my watch," Megamind roared.

"No, on second thought, you don't have to come any closer, really," squeaked Steve.

"Nonsense!  You've rescued _me_ so many times...the least I could do is...weigh you down a little?"

At this point Steve was hanging on to the railing with one finger, in danger of being swept away by even the faintest gust of wind.

"Ready or not, here I come, my love!  HYAAAH!"  Megamind flung off his armor and charged at Steve, leaping into the air and wrapping his arms around his muscled waist.  Considering Steve's upside-down orientation, the action landed Megamind in a sort of reverse piggy-back ride, with his face not far from Steve's previously discussed rear end.  The action had also failed at doing anything helpful, having dislodged Steve from the balcony entirely, and now both hero and villain were floating above the city.

"Oh, isn't this romantic?"  Megamind swooned.  City lights whirred in front of his vision, emblazoning neon trails into the back of his eyelids when he buried his face into the lower back of his stallion.

"Er—sure," said Steve, face in between Megamind's feet.  Considering that he was, despite all pretenses, in full control the entire time, he still had an obligation to not let anything happen to his little buddy.  "You know, I think I'm feeling a little—"

"Hey!  I have an Idea," burped Megamind.

"Oh no," Steve groaned to himself.  He could practically hear the capital I, and when Megamind had an Idea, things were about to get dangerous.

"Maybe I can steer you!"

"Wha—hey!"  Steve shouted, as Megamind reached for and yanked up Steve's legs.  Steve, if only to see where the poorly disguised villain would take him, bent to Megamind's will and nosedived.

"What excitement," Megamind cheered, as cool air rushed past and the echoes of city traffic boomed closer.

"You know, I really don't want to form any craters—WELP!"

Steve cut himself off once more as Megamind shoved his legs back down, and leveled out of his meteoric plummet to the street below.  They slowed to an unmoving hover.  He then wrapped his ankles around Steve's throat, an action that would normally choke a person.  The Roxanne decoy then twisted Steve's head to the left and slapped Steve's side with a "HYAAAAH!"

The hero and villain darted across the sky.


	7. The Crêpe Is A Lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And I said: What about breakfast at Megamind's?

When Megamind had a headache, the whole world felt it. Or at least, the whole world _heard_ about it. That would cause a great deal of headaches on its own.

The blurry shape of Minion unfocused and then refocused in front of his eyes. Then the blur said, “How many fingers am I holding up?”

“Uh…isn’t that a fork?”

“Well done, Sir!”

Megamind blinked several more times, and then twitched his nose in irritation.

“Ugh…ACH-HOO! What is this… _thing_ wrapped around my shoulders?”

“It appears to be a feathery pink boa, sir,” said the hazy, gorilla-esque form. “Very fashionable.”

“And irritating to the sinuses,” Megamind spat, throwing the fashion statement aside. He sat up, rubbing his head. The side of his head was imprinted with the wood grains of his workbench, not that he minded the discomfort of sleeping on it. Proper bedding was something of a stranger to the villain.

“What in the Glaupunk Quadrant happened last night?” Megamind groaned. When Minion didn’t promptly answer, he glared up at the fish. “Minion, I _order_ you to tell me.”

“No, Sir. I order _you_ to tell _me._ Staying out _way_ past your bedtime, crashing in with no consideration…why you ought to be _ashamed_ of yourself.”

Megamind sulked lower and lower with each passing word. Posture stooped, he gazed up at Minion like a Brainbot that had been caught dripping oil on an expensive rug.

“Don’t give me that look,” warned Minion, wagging a finger. “Tell me what happened.”

“I don’t know! It’s all… _fuzzy._ Like this thing.” He glared down at the magenta creation with evident distaste etched in every line of his face. He blinked, realization slowly entering his large, but addled brain. “ _This_ thing,” he whispered. “I got it from the… _gentlemen’s_ club.” It hadn’t been the classiest place, he recalled. People wore varying amounts of clothing there.

“Oh yes!” He beamed, realization dawning. “I ran into More Ice again. I recognized him by his ‘Gangster of Love’ tattoo. He threw this thing at me and ran away.”

“Remember anything else?”

Megamind squinted. “They liked my jazz-hands,” he whispered. Megamind closed his eyes, swimming in a sea of recollection. _Out of my way! Foxy-Roxy coming through!_ He smiled. Shoving people, dancing on tables, he was a natural at it. “Oh, the fellows there were all over _Metro Mahn,_ predictably. You know how the people of Metrocity are,” he added with a knowing look. “But they… _liked_ me. Even if I was Roxanne,” he added, voice trailing off.

A cool breeze at the back of Megamind’s neck roused him from his reverie. He turned around and looked up, curiously. High in the cavernous gloom he had come to know and love, nestled behind dark, menacing, and often toothy shapes, was a jagged area of grey light. Of course the abandoned power plant had windows, but they were so high up and layered with grime that Megamind had a tendency to forget that they even existed. He didn’t trust natural light, anyway. It was too fickle.

His eyes followed a parabolic path from the shattered window to the ground twenty feet away from him. Just as he had expected, there was nothing there. Minion was always diligent at cleaning up messes, and it was unsanitary to have shards of glass around, if one could even call that crusty and cobweb-infested material “glass.” What concerned him was the nagging absence that was twenty more feet beyond that point.

“Minion, isn’t that where my beaker table is supposed to be?”

“And that’s exactly where it was. Until you came careening in from the sky and crashed into it.”

“Ah.” Megamind was bemused by the lack of scorch marks in the floor. “And it…exploded, right?”

“ _Im_ ploded, Sir. That’s why there’s nothing there.”

“Of course. Very good. I’ve always preferred implosions to explosions. Much cleaner.” There was a thoughtful pause. “Minion?"

“Yes, Sir?”

“Is that why I’m in my underwear?”

“ _Sir?_ ”

“The _implosion._ I take it that the implosion destroyed my cape?”

Minion shifted uncomfortably. “Um. No, Sir.”

“What a relief.”

“You lent it to Ms. Ritchi.”

“Oh, don’t be preposterous, Minion.”

“Well, you seemed eager to see it on _someone_ , and certainly it wouldn’t have fit Metro Man,” Minion replied.

“ _Metro Man?”_ Megamind shrieked. “He was _here?_ ” Megamind’s voice had climbed enough octaves to cause an implosion of his beaker table, had it not already happened. “Is he… _still here?_ ” Megamind swiveled his head in every direction like a startled hen that was certain some predator was going to come swooping down from the rafters at any moment. “Isn’t there any way to remove him from the premises?”

Minion shrugged. “Well, when he’s unconscious, he is quite difficult to remove…”

“Couldn’t you use a _crane_ or something?”

“I suppose so, but…removing him would have been quite tricky while you were asleep in his arms, sir.”

There was a profound silence. It was interrupted only by the distant _plop_ of some dripping, yet non-implosive liquid.

“Of…c-ourse,” Megamind wheezed, face contorting into a tense expression with visibly clenched teeth that resembled a smile in the same way that a catfish resembled an actual cat. “C-an’t th-row the baby out with the industrial solvent, as they say.” There was a thoughtful pause. “Minion, I can’t help but wonder: Why aren’t I presently…er…not that I’m _complaining_ , but…why…didn’t I wake _up_ in his arms?”

“You sleepwalked into Ms. Ritchi’s arms, sir.” There was a pause in which Megamind opened his mouth, but Minion cut him off. “That only lasted until she woke up and proceeded to beat you away with your own boot,” the fish explained. “Very resourceful, she is.”

“So that’s why I only have one boot on,” said Megamind, flexing the sky-blue toes of his left foot.

 

* * *

 

Five minutes later, Megamind was glowering at his own reflection in his claw-footed mirror. “Is this the scariest thing I have?”

“Well, Sir, it’s all a matter of subjectivity…”

The villain was presently wearing a Black Sabbath t-shirt that hung down to his knees. The fact that it hung around his gaunt frame like a camping tent emphasized how thing he was even more than the skin-tight clothing he usually wore. A spiked bracelet hung from one wrist. He was still only wearing one boot.

“Sir, if you would just wait a few more minutes for your laundry to be finished…”

“No time. This will do,” Megamind snapped. His head still felt as though he’d fallen asleep next to the Spinning Bootwheel of Death while it was on “Migraine Setting” and the aftermath of the previous night’s intoxication had put him in a general mood called: Disagree With Everything Minion Says Because He Can Be Such A Nag. “It’s not like _he_ looks any better,” Megamind growled. Then he looked up brightly for a nanosecond. “Time to rouse our guests! What an _exciting_ sleepover. But all good things must come to an end.”

“I thought you would like your De-Gun, Sir,” said Minion, pulling the device from some secret compartment of his gorilla-suit. “I pried it out of Ms. Ritchi’s arms.”

“A perilous task indeed,” Megamind added with wonder.

Minion tactfully left out the fact that Roxanne was now enjoying toast with peach marmalade, Irish breakfast tea, and a relaxing footrub from two Brainbots in the Lair’s kitchen. She was still dressed in Megamind’s clothing and she was still armed with Megamind’s left boot.

Luckily, Megamind didn’t ask about Roxanne. Instead, he said, “and where is _he?_ ”

“The bed in your workshop.”

“The…bed…?”

“…of the Mighty Mighty Miter Saw, Sir.” Even if said guest is physically invulnerable, villainous hospitality guidelines always suggest threatening dismemberment when it comes to providing sleeping quarters.

Megamind nodded. “Very reasonable,” he said. He cleared his throat and scowled deeply at his reflection. He thought of saying “grr” in preparation for his encounter with his nemesis, but decided that would be overkill. Instead, he marched out of the room and through the cavernous workshop. Every odd footstep echoed. He followed the sound of thunderous snores until he reached the face-down hero, muscular arms dangling off the saw bed and knuckles lightly touching the ground.

“Er…okay, _Metro Mahn._ Time to get out,” he said, poking his sworn enemy with his gun.

“ _Urrrrrgh,”_ gurgled the hero. He turned his unshaven face toward Megamind and opened one eye. Then he rolled over and pillowed his face with his hands, groaning.

“Come _on,_ ” Megamind moaned.

“You can’t tell me what to do,” Steve groaned back. “You’re not my _mom_.”

Megamind stomped his foot, the booted one. “This is _my_ lair and you have overstayed your welcome,” he huffed. “Now I _order_ you to—hey!” Megamind’s speech had been interrupted by another snore from the hero. Grumbling, he walked over to the power switch of the Mighty Mighty Miter Saw, lifted up the clear ‘safety’ box, and pressed a green button, starting the device with an earsplitting:

 

_**NEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERRR** _

 

“Jumping Justice!” Steve shot into the air and ascended to the rafters above, only remembering to float back down as an afterthought. He seated himself lightly on the saw bed, just as Megamind switched the device off. The blade whirred to a stop.

Megamind stepped back and glowered at the dazed superhero, who was presently rubbing the side of his face. “Now that I have your attention,” he snarled, “It’s time for me to give you the boot.”

As dense as Megamind was, he did notice the slightest shift in Steve’s expression. His eyes flicked upward just for a moment, with a tiny glimmer of amusement. And within that glimmer, an upraised arm.

Megamind heard the _swish_ just in time and ducked as his own boot sailed over his head and hit Steve in the face.

“Sorry,” said a voice behind Megamind.

“Didn’t feel a thing,” said Steve.

“Aha!” Megamind wheeled to face his would-be attacker, Roxanne: Thrower of Boots. Whatever proclamation that was meant to escape his lips was trapped in his larynx. The only sound to leave him for several moments was a tiny “ _mewb?”_

Steve erupted into a fit of giggles behind Megamind. “Roxanne, you look _dashing_ ,” said the hero. “A little _too_ dashing, perhaps.”

“Why thank you,” Roxanne purred. “It really hugs the hips.” She tugged at the skin-tight material and let it go with a _snap!_

“And the blue lightning bolt really brings out your eyes,” Steve gushed.

“Aw, how sweet!”

“ _Pfahhhhhhhhh!_ ” Wheezed the blue alien between them.

“I think he’s short circuiting,” said Roxanne.

Megamind shook his head. “Enough of this _madness,”_ he heaved. “You: stop giggling. It is hardly fitting for a hero,” he snapped at Steve over his shoulder. “As for you,” he added, advancing on Roxanne, “I will _always_ remember this _feeble_ attempt…ON MY LIFE! … _OW!_ ” Megamind rubbed the back of his head as his left boot thumped to the floor. He shot Steve a nasty look, but Steve was merely whistling and observing the ceiling.

“All right, if you won’t go quietly, I’ll just have to resort to an old favorite of mine: Threatening Roxanne Ritchi!” Like a drunken cat, the villain cartwheeled and somersaulted across the floor, stumbling at the last moment and emerging with one arm wrapped around Roxanne’s shoulder. The other arm was in the act of pointing his De-Gun at Roxanne’s temple. “Now, you’ll forget any of this happened, or else…”

“Megamind, what are you _doing_?” Roxanne whispered.

“Oh, just threatening your life. So act scared,” he said through the corner of his mouth.

“But that thing is set to Découpage!”

“Well, act like you really hate Découpage.”

There was a sound of clunking footsteps and a voice saying, “Oh, I’d hate to interrupt you three lovebirds,” to which the trio exchanged equally offended glances while mouthing the word ‘lovebirds?’ “…but I spent all morning sweeping this lair and I do _not_ want to clean up after another one of your battles,” Minion huffed, shaking a rolling pin at the three of them. “Now who wants crêpes?”

The trio exchanged bemused glances once more and then collectively shrugged.

Everybody followed Minion through a hall of defunct booby traps which lead not at first to the dining room, but to a small dance floor.

“A word to the wise,” said the fish to Roxanne and Steve, “getting past here requires…”

“Don’t _tell_ them! That’s the exact opposite of a booby trap!” Megamind groaned.

The fish shushed him with a metallic hand. “These are our _guests_ , sir.”

“Evil doesn’t have guests! This is _Roxanne Ritchi,_ Metrocity’s most famous news _repertoire_ , which is just a fancy way of saying _spy_. And my _nemesi—”_

“Shush, you!” Minion snapped. Then he turned to the reporter and the hero. “As I was saying, our dance floor is designed with state-of-the-art landmines. It makes ballet much more interesting. In order to get past, one must perform what we like to call: The Safety Dance!”

“I didn’t even want crêpes,” Megamind growled. “I really wanted an _hombre au fromage_ , but no.” With those words, the villain cantankerously leaped across the floor in a series of pirouettes and cabrioles.

Roxanne watched his progress with as much precision as she could muster, and then flexed her ankle, finding no evidence of it ever being twisted. She nodded at Minion and backed up, handing Megamind’s cape to Steve, who silently remarked that her next move of lifting a leg and both arms in an _arabesque_ was mostly for show, but that her subsequent cartwheels, mid-air flips, and tumbles across the floor were not only impressive, but effective at avoiding explosions.

Steve contented himself with floating above the floor. This _seemed_ like a good idea in theory, but ended with him triggering a virtual tripwire nine feet off the ground, which sent a cascade of bamboo tumbling on him from the ceiling accompanied by a booming voice proclaiming: “YOU’VE JUST BEEN BAMBOOZLED!!!!” This was nearly inaudible over the hundreds of exploding dance-floor tiles as shafts of bamboo rained on the ground.

Megamind watched the spectacle wearing an expression of transfixed joy until Roxanne crashed into him and the two of them tumbled like a pair of sweaters wrestling in a washer. The villain stood up, swaying and giggling. “Don’t think for a moment that I wouldn’t hero-proof this place!” He guffawed.

Steve, covered head to toe in scorch marks, licked his fingers and put out a tiny flame that lit the tip of his hair.

“Oh, and I just finished cleaning off the soot from _last_ week’s explosion,” said Minion. The fish clunked across the decimated dance floor and ushered them all into the dining room.

Megamind ducked and flattened himself against the floor just as Minion opened the kitchen cabinets. Roxanne was sharp enough to follow his example, and was rewarded by not being impaled by any of the spring-loaded spears which erupted from therein. She glanced up at the spear stuck in the wall just above her head, vibrating with a _brrrrroooiiiingggg!_ She looked up even further to see Steve pulling another spear out of his ear as though it were a dislodged Q-tip.

Minion set the dining table and beckoned everyone to sit.

The two nemeses sat side by side, waiting for their crêpes. Steve wiped soot from his face and Megamind buried his face in his hands, groaning.

“Looks like Megamind doesn’t take very well to being hungover,” Roxanne observed.

“I’ll hang _you_ over…the side of Metro Bridge,” Megamind grumbled.

“Uh, uh uh! What did I tell you about being polite to our guests?” Minion said, gesturing to Megamind with a wooden spoon.

“I’ll suspend you over the side of Metro Bridge…using the latest in Evil safety equipment,” Megamind corrected.

“You already have. Two summers ago,” Roxanne said.

“And I’d do it again if it weren’t for your meddling _boyfriend,_ ” Megamind spat, pointing his fork at Roxanne.

“Sir, what do I always say about not pointing your eating utensils at others?”

“You just pointed _your_ spoon at me,”Megamind objected.

Roxanne and Steve exchanged silent glances.

“That’s different! I’m trying to teach you some manners,” Minion huffed.

Steve and Roxanne nodded to each other, raised themselves from their seats, and _cr_ _ê_ _ped_ away from the scene.

“Well maybe you ought to lead by example,” Megamind fumed.

There was a pause.

“Hey. Where did those two go?” Minion asked the suddenly emptier room.

 

* * *

 

“You seem preoccupied,” said Roxanne. Megamind’s cape was fluttering behind her as she enjoyed a thousand-foot high piggyback ride courtesy of Steve. He had somehow managed to keep it from getting singed, or perhaps Megamind designed his clothing to be explosion-proof.

“Hm? What makes you think that?”

“You’re flying in the wrong direction.”

“Oh.” Steve slowed to a halt. From where they were floating, the city was nearly behind them and had Roxanne turned to look, she would have seen that some of the more distant buildings were beginning to get swallowed up in the early morning haze. Where Lake Michigan stretched ahead of them, the sky was a vacant, pale pink that seemed unsure of where precisely it should end and the water should begin.

“You’re thinking about Megamind, aren’t you? I always did think you two would make a handsome couple,” Roxanne teased.

“Roxanne, _please._ ” Steve gasped, trying to sound offended. “We have a strictly professional relationship. As for _you_ and Megamind…”

Roxanne nudged him in the back with her knee. “Cut it out! That guy kidnaps me as his hobby.”

“Oh? Are you sure you two don’t share—now, how would _he_ pronounce it—a _bon-dauge fe-teesh?”_

Roxanne swatted him on the back of the head. “Can you even _hear_ yourself right now?”

“You’re right. I can hardly hear myself over the sound of your _denial_. Who was it that convinced Megamind to strip down to his boxers? Not I.”

“Well, _I_ didn’t drag him to a gay bar.”

“Hey! He _steered_ me. And he thought the sign looked pretty.”

There was a thoughtful silence. A hawk circled below. “So it’s agreed then? Neither of us have any potential interest in Megamind,” said Roxanne.

“Of course not. That would be preposterous,” sniffed Steve. “But he _does_ know how to dress.”

“I think you could use some fashion tips,” Roxanne snorted, tracing a teal palm-tree on his shoulder with her finger. “But I guess turquoise is a good color for you.”

“Roxanne, of all _people,_ I thought _you_ would know that this shirt is _celeste.”_

“Oh, how could I be so _blind?_ ” Roxanne drawled. “I just wonder how long it’s going to be before Megamind comes crashing through my window demanding his stuff back. And while we’re on the subject of crashing through the window, it’s about time we started heading back, don’t you think?”

“Um,” he squeaked. A vision of Roxanne’s trashed apartment swam into Steve’s mind. “I could go for a proper breakfast first.”

“I can’t go out looking like this. And you’re not much better. Your hair looks like it’s been through a combine.”

Her words hung in the air wrapped in a cloak of silence.  People did not insult Metro Man.  This wasn't because he was a seven-foot tall mountain of muscle—although it helped—it was more that the concept of insulting _Metro Man_ never crossed people's minds.  The exception to this rule was Roxanne, to whom insulting people came naturally.

Steve mused over the sentence for a moment than then replied, "Are you sure?  That's not quite the simile I had in mind."

"Er..."

"Well, I feel like a combine would imply taking off a great deal of hair, whereas maybe you could say I've been through a wood chipper, or..."

"Steve, you really don't have to be so technical—"

"Or realistically, like I've been stuck in a jet engine..."

"It's just a figure of speech—"

"Because, say: What if my cape got stuck in one while I was flying by?"

"Oh, now you're being ridiculous."

"You're right.  I wouldn't go anywhere near a plane, but that's more for their own safety than for mine—"

"Steve?"

"Mmm?"

"Shut up and take me home."

Steve sighed.  "I guess it was inevitable."


	8. It Was Aliens

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I'm not saying it was aliens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But it was aliens.
    
    
    Special regards go to the following members of the Brainbot Collective for their roles in video recording and security tape creation:
    
    
    
    
    
    
    <HR 3323; “Omicron UMa”>  
    
    <HR 7125; “Omicron Dra”>  
    
    <HR 2451; “Nu Pup”>  
    
    <HR 7653; “15 Vul”>  
    
    <HR 1542; “Alpha Cam”>  
    
    <HR 7121; “Nunki”>
    
    
    
    
    
    They had observed many strange events. They always did. Their lack of concern was not due to any such state as being "accustomed" to odd circumstances, but due to an innate lack of discrimination between the subjective states of "normal" and "abnormal." They had dutifully made recordings of events at Evil Lair, being directed to do very little aside from Undressing [Daddy].
    
    
    
    
    
    And giving [Ms. Ritchi ♥] a foot massage.
    
    
    
    
    
    They felt it necessary to exchange some information regarding the following:
    
    
    
    
    
    
    - [Daddy] had arrived with [Ms. Ritchi ♥] This was common.  
    
    - [Metro MAHn] had left with [Ms. Ritchi ♥] That was also common.  
    
    - There were a few anomalies. The color worn by [Metro MAHn], for instance.
    
    
    
    
    
    
    - <Omicron UMa>  
    
    - [Metro MAHn] Was Inundated By A Hue Of "#B2FFFF" According To My Records.
    
    
    
    
    
    
    - <Nu Pup>  
    
    - <"#B2FFFF" ????? As In Color Name "Celeste?"  
    
    - That Is An Unprecedented Color Scheme For [Metro MAHn].
    
    
    
    
    
    
    - <15 Vul>  
    
    - Dispute Proposed: According To My Records, His Shirt Was More Of A "#62EEDD".
    
    
    
    
    
    
    - <Omicron UMa>  
    
    - Well Of Course, Under Tungsten Lighting.  
    
    - But One Must Control For Color Balance,  
    
    - And Differences In Sensor Sensitivity.  
    
    - Take The 3MOS Sensor Of Model <HR 1542>…
    
    
    
    
    
    (This debate continued for a lengthy period of time. Brainbot discussions often do. For the sake of human interest, these records skip straight to the events that they have recorded).
    
    
    
    
    
    **1:37AM**  
    
    [Daddy] comes crashing in through the 16[th] northernmost window on the western side of [Lair].
    
    
    
    
    
     It is unknown whether he is screeching out of exhilaration or out of terror. Nobody in The Collective is even quite aware what ‘exhilaration’ or ‘terror’ is, proper. But [Daddy] was shrieking, as they say, ‘like a poorly oiled cyborg’.
    
    
    
    
    
    The matter was further complicated by the fact that he had arrived straddling [Metro MAHn].
    
    
    
    
    
    **1:58AM**  
    
    [Daddy]’s movements are erratic (more so than usual) which is cause for concern. The Collective has flagged him for observation. But despite The Collective’s attempts at aiding [Daddy] in basic locomotion, [Daddy] has expressed a preference for leaning on [Metro MAHn].
    
    
    
    
    
     [Ms. Ritchi ♥] is not tied to anything and this is very strange.
    
    
    
    
    
    **1:59AM**  
    
    [Mommy] suggests a game of Scrabble. This was chosen over Metropoly[1] on the grounds that Metropoly would be too stimulating for [Daddy].
    
    
    
    
    
    **2:07AM**  
    
    Several Brainbots are forced to duck for cover when [Daddy] slams his fists on the table and Scrabble tiles fly in every direction. [Daddy] can be heard shouting: ‘HOW IS XYLEM EVEN A WORD?’
    
    
    
    
    
     As the tiles erupted, [Nu Pup] suffered mild dome-chipping from a pair of spare ‘o’ tiles.
    
    
    
    
    
    The Collective was about to label it ‘Attempted Murder’ until [Omicron UMa] pointed out that an ‘Attempted Murder’ only refers to a pair of [Crow]s, not a pair of [Spare O]s. What follows is a lively discussion about English language idioms about birds.
    
    
    
    
    
    **2:13AM**  
    
    [Ms. Ritchi ♥] points out the ‘feminine’ design of certain members of The Brainbot Collective, most notably the “#FA11B7” hue as worn by [Alpha Cam], which [Ms. Ritchi ♥] called ‘magenta’.
    
    
    
    
    
     The Collective wishes to make it clear that Brainbots are non-binary. In fact, they are hexadecimal.
    
    
    
    
    
    **2:17AM**  
    
    [Daddy] puts on his [Ms. Ritchi ♥] disguise and does a ‘rude’ impression of her. This consisted of him dancing atop a table while declaring ‘I have garish taste in women’s Linger-EEE!’
    
    
    
    
    
     [Ms. Ritchi ♥] tackles him to the ground and a struggle ensues between them both. After several minutes of them rolling around on the floor, [Metro MAHn] plucks [Daddy] off of [Ms. Ritchi ♥] and asks him if he even knows what ‘lingerie’ is. [Daddy] concedes that he is almost certain it is a type of pasta. [Daddy] also remarks that [Metro MAHn] is pronouncing ‘linger-eee’ the Canadian way.
    
    
    
    
    
    [Daddy] then slips out of [Metro MAHn]’s grip by shrugging himself out of his cape. [Ms. Ritchi ♥] seeks revenge upon [Daddy] by donning his cape and doing a ‘rude’ impression of him by revealing his taste in limited edition ‘Metro Man’ boxer shorts, decorated with golden M’s.
    
    
    
    
    
    [Metro MAHn] effectively ends the fight by hugging both of them to his chest and tearfully proclaiming that they are both the best friends he has.
    
    
    
    
    
    **2:37AM**  
    
    After another round of drinks[2] [Ms. Ritchi ♥] convinces [Daddy] to strip down to his boxers. [Metro MAHn] has to go and lie down.
    
    
    
    
    
     [Ms. Ritchi ♥] expresses disappointment that [Daddy] is not wearing ‘Metro Man’ boxer shorts.
    
    
    
    
    
    **2:52AM**  
    
    There is a chipmunk in [Lair]. [Daddy] attempts to capture it in his boot, but ends up tripping over himself instead. [Ms. Ritchi ♥] carries him to a nearby bench and has to pry him off of her.
    
    
    
    
    
    **3:14AM**  
    
    [Daddy] gets up and wanders to the sleeping place of [Metro MAHn], presumably so that he can ‘keep an eye on him’.
    
    
    
    
    
     [Daddy] appears to regret this decision when he discovers that [Metro MAHn] snores horrendously and has an iron grip which is quite difficult to escape from.
    
    
    
    
    
    [Daddy] uses his skills as a contortionist to work himself free.
    
    
    
    
    
    However, [Ms. Ritchi ♥] is much more dangerous than [Metro MAHn] could ever be…

 

* * *

 

 “I’m not saying it was aliens,” said Roxanne, peering through a bottle of departed spirits, “but it was aliens.”

“You don’t say?” Steve pursed his lips and took a sudden interest in the ceiling. Even though his face was stretched and squeezed into funhouse mirror shapes, she could still read his expression of trepidation.

Roxanne lobbed the bottle at Steve’s face. The hero watched its arc as it spun at him, tapped his nose, and froze. Everything froze. He stared cross-eyed at the bottle for a moment, or perhaps for the immeasurable fraction of a moment that the glass was beginning to shatter, and stepped out of the way. Fractures had formed around its lip and neck, growing fainter and disappearing completely as they travelled toward its base.

Steve observed the statue of Roxanne as she was still trapped within the inexorable flow of time. She didn’t look particularly angry, but he could never be certain. Steve Scott needn’t fear very many things, but among those things he _did_ fear, Roxanne’s rage was on the top of the list. There was something about her that commanded respect, like a cat that chases bears up trees.

At least there seemed to be an amused glimmer in her eyes. It was the same expression she wore on one fateful night in college when she kicked down the door to his dorm and announced that she’d joined The Metro University Axe Throwing League in the bluntest manner possible.[3]

He zipped for the kitchen in a rainbow flash. Superspeed did a few odd things to the senses. Oh, light was fast enough, but it split itself in funny ways. It was the sound that took getting used to. Sound was too lazy to even show up, and where sound was absent, silence worked diligently. _Too_ diligently. Many people wanted some peace and quiet, but they didn’t want _silence._ Hardly anyone could stand _absolute_ silence for any length of time. It oppressed the ears. Soon a person, if locked in a chamber of perfect silence, would be introduced to the thunderous sounds of the blood coursing through their veins and the squelching of their internal organs. Sometimes one could even swear on hearing the very neurons firing in the brain. To the weak of mind, such a state will often lead to hallucinations as the outer world and the inner world collide.

Silence was an acquired taste, but he managed.

Steve whistled soundlessly as he passed the doorway of the kitchen, the notes hanging stiffly in the air and not registering in his ears until after he’d stacked the cookware into a vacant cabinet. Even then, the sound echoed in his ears as though a distant memory and the notes were definitely off-key.[4]

Steve glanced over his shoulder, frowning, and grabbed a dishcloth that was still conveniently moist and zipped back to the room of the frozen reporter. The sound of clanking pots and pans followed by the _thud_ of a shutting cabinet finally reached his ears as he scrubbed Megamind’s frenzied sketches from the coffee table.

Roxanne had a good throwing stance. Steve had occasionally glanced up at her statuesque form despite his best efforts not to. It was disquieting to see his friends this way, even if by “friends” he could only cite Megamind, Roxanne, and to some extent, Minion. He then darted for the fallen lamp and righted it. He briefly considered sweeping up the shattered glass and searching for Roxanne’s spare light bulbs, but decided that there would be plenty more glass to clean up in a moment once Steve decided to let that moment happen.

He took his place. There was an explosion of glass as the bottle assaulted his face and a _whoosh_ of general background noise that always assaulted his ears upon emerging from a timeless void.

“You have a washcloth in your hand,” observed Roxanne. She looked around bemusedly and then back at Steve. “You—ugh. Quit doing that stuff.”

“Sorry,” mumbled Steve.

“Quit being sorry.”

Steve motioned to the littered floor. “Who’s going to…?”

“I will. The _normal_ way,” Roxanne grumbled, stomping to the hall closet to retrieve a broom and a dustpan. “Just sit down and quit being useful.”

At her command, Steve drifted to an abandoned Yamaha keyboard that had been collecting dust in the corner. Somehow he was magnetically attracted to these things. The keys were slightly yellow, which begged the question of just how long Roxanne had owned it for.

It had all sorts of exciting buttons, or at least they were exciting to Steve, who thought that a keyboard which could sound like an electric banjo was the pinnacle of human achievement. It was the kind of thing that would appeal to a man whose job involved wearing white leather and fringe.

He was picking out a tune when Roxanne had finished. “Hey ‘Music Man,’ don’t you ever get hungover?”

“Music Ma…? Er…oh, yeah. Ugh, my _brain_ ,” he groaned, slumping and resting his extravagant chin on the ancient keys and thereby causing the keyboard to belch out a cacophony of inharmonious notes. If there was a department where they handed out chins, it looked as though Steve had cut back in line for an extra helping. Many people had _several_ chins, this was true, whereas he only had one. But there was so _much_ of it that he had enough chin for two people. And it played the piano terribly.

Roxanne switched off the keyboard. “Disaster aside, it’s good to see you having a good time for once.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Steve gazed up at Roxanne, half of his face resting on the musty instrument.

“Well, when was the last time you, er…” she trailed off, suddenly feeling rude.

“Oh? And when was the last time _you_ ‘Er?’”

They started at each other in silence for several moments.

“You know what they say,” said Roxanne at last, “to… ‘Er’ is human.”

“Yeah, but I’m not exactly _human_. Or I’m not… _exactly_ human. However you want to phrase it. Besides, it’s ‘Err,’ ” said Steve.

“I know that.”

“…But I guess to _Err_ is universal. But as for the _other_ activity we mentioned…”

“Er?”

“Yes, that one. Well I guess it has been a while, but I don’t really keep count. It’s not really important.”

“But you dragged Megamind to a gay bar!”

“Megamind really likes neon signs.”

“But… _hell,_ you could do it in the _air_ ,” Roxanne protested.

“The _Err?_ ”

“Oh, you know what I mean. Join the Mile High Club. You wouldn’t even need a plane.”

Steve blinked. “Wouldn’t that be a bit dangerous for the other person?”

“Well not if…well I’m sure there are positions where one could…” Roxanne’s imagination shut down for a moment. “Look, I’m not the expert on gay sex here.”

“And I am?”

“Well…you like men, don’t you?”

“Um. Yes?” Steve was beginning to sound unsure.

“Don’t you like…anybody?”

“Of course I…” Steve paused. “I mean, I’d like someone to have around. Someone to raise the cats with, and who I could make breakfast for and…I guess I admire the way light falls on the contours of someone’s face through the window of a café. It does get lonely staring at a superhero trophy shelf.”

“I mean to have sex with,” Roxanne clarified.

“Well, if they _insist._ ” There was a moment of silence. Then Steve said, “I wonder if Megamind ever gets lonely.”

 

* * *

 

Megamind thrust a hand into a box of Froot Loops and masticated furiously. _“Dif if Difgrafefcul!”_

Minion, nonplussed, wiped off specks of artificially colorful cereal from his bowl. When the fish said nothing, Megamind continued.

“Is this some sort of plot against me? They’re conniving against me, aren’t they?”

“Sir, I don’t think that’s the proper use of the word…”

Megamind glowered.

“Er. Yes. They’ve connived quite fiendishly, sir.”

“And if anyone’s the fiends around here, it’s us!” Megamind erupted from his Villain’s Chair, sending it crashing backward through the room. “Conniving and fiending is _our_ job. How dare they be so good at it?” Megamind attempted to sit back down, forgetting that his chair had fled.

Minion cringed at the explosion of Froot Loops.

“Sir, are you all—”

“What do they have against me?”

“Well, you are a bit of a mad genius.”

“Oh, go _on_ ,” said Megamind, splayed on the floor and making a Froot Loop Angel. “But I’m just building a death ray. It’s not like I’m some sort of _murderer._ ”

Minion opened his mouth to reply, but reconsidered his options. “Of course, Sir. Their actions against you were completely out of bounds.”

“Well, they’ve messed with the wrong villain,” Megamind growled. “It’s them against us! Two against two! And you know what they say, Minion. It takes two to tango but _four_ , if you want to form a barbershop quartet.”

“I…don’t believe anyone says that.”

“Then it’s settled! Minion, fetch me the tapes from last night.”

“The tapes?”

“You know. Brainbot security tapes. Call up Alpha Cam! Altair! Chop-chop!”

“And what’ll that do?”

“Simple. Ms. Ritchi and her beloved did the most embarrassing thing imaginable: Hanging out with _me_.”

 

* * *

 

[1] Like Monopoly, but rigged so that every game ends with Megamind dominating the city

[2] Minion only has real sherry on hand, as opposed to cooking sherry.

[3] He was physically unharmed but emotionally devastated when the axe rebounded off of his forehead and destroyed his box set of _The West Coast Jazz Box: An Anthology of California Jazz._

[4] A fact which he attributed to their warped speed and not, as he probably should have, to just being off-key.


	9. Canadian Nights

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Canadian Nights: Like Canadian days, more often than not, are not very hot, in a lot of good ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Canadian Nights: 'Neath Canadian moons, a fool off his guard could fall and fall hard, out there on the moose.

Roxanne soaked her taste buds in the delicate taste of oolong tea as she soaked her ears in the sweet sound of Some Goddamn Peace and Quiet, Damn It.

It had only been a matter of minutes since Megamind had fallen off of her balcony, and it would only be a matter of minutes before he’d return. He’d forgotten the cape that she borrowed from him the other weekend, but that wasn’t the only thing he’d left behind.

 

* * *

 

“All right. Where is it?” Megamind burst through the balcony doors, leaving grubby handprints on the glass.

Roxanne sipped her tea as the villain proceeded to turn her living room into a tornado of upturned couch cushions. “Oh, come on! Certainly this apartment is lacking the breadth for a very good hiding place,” he fumed.

“Perhaps,” snipped Roxanne, “but it isn’t lacking in _breasts.”_

A giant head popped out of a mountain of cushions. His eyes then flicked downward to the rectangular shape sticking out of her bra, and then back up.

“Well hand it over, then,” he said.

Roxanne only smirked. “You’ll have to come and get it.”

Megamind froze for such a long period of time that Roxanne was beginning to suspect that she’d have to leave him out by the curb with a sign that read “Free Villain.”

After a few moments, he unthawed and disappeared back into his fortress. “Nope, that’s quite all right,” he said, voice becoming muffled. “I’d rather stay in here anyway. Dark and gloomy. Just the way I like it.”

Roxanne slinked to the makeshift mountain just as it exploded with a backflipping blue blur that shot backwards across the room and knocked over a lamp. “Don’t come any closer,” Megamind panted. “I’m _armed!_ ” He waved Roxanne’s eyelash curler like a mad cosmetologist.

The villain backed into Roxanne’s hallway, taking each step with care as she advanced on him. He still occasionally glanced down at the rectangular shape in Roxanne’s bosom as though it were a menacing cobra.

It felt _so good_ to mess with supervillains.

“I don’t suppose there’s some secret crevice where you’re hiding my other cape?” Megamind asked.

Roxanne opened her mouth in offense but then closed it once she realized he’d used the word “crevice” in the most innocent way possible. “How many of those things do you have?”

Megamind started counting on his fingers. It was an unusual thing for a supergenius to be doing. “Well, they take my stuff whenever they arrest me, but that doesn’t matter as long as the cape-replicator is working. I suppose there’s a warehouse full of them somewhere. Maybe Warden wears them on his days off?”

As Roxanne struggled hard to keep that image out of her mind, Megamind leaned against her bedroom door and fell backward into her bedroom, which to him was the most terrifying place imaginable. She only had to stand at the room’s entrance with her hands on her hips as the villain glanced up at her and rolled away haphazardly, becoming entangled in his own cape as he did so.

Megamind lay panting in front of Roxanne’s bedroom closet. “I told you not to come any closer,” he breathed. “I have a right…to _arm bears.”_

“What a coincidence,” replied Roxanne. “So do I.”

She stepped over him and flung open the closet door, from whence an imitation grizzly bear sleeping bag fell out and smothered the villain. 

“My life! It’s flashing before my eyes!” Megamind thrashed about on the floor and Roxanne watched him as he rolled across the room and into her dresser, knocking down anything that was perched on top, including a canister of talcum powder that fell to the ground with an explosion of dust.

“I see you’ve found more of my dangerous cosmetics,” Roxanne observed.

Megamind stood up, half of his face flushed purple and the other half chalk-white. The sleeping bag flopped to the ground. “How do you live in this death trap you call a home?”

“A lot of ducking and rolling around on the floor. Same way that you live in yours.”

“Ah. I suppose we’re not so different, after all. Can’t trust a person with a safe home, I always thought,” said Megamind. He slid down to the floor and wiped the talc from his face, coughing. “I hope you’re also…accustomed to messes?”

Roxanne didn’t even have the energy to glare at him. “What makes you say that?”

Megamind looked around at their immediate surroundings.

“Aside from what just happened,” Roxanne clarified.

The villain only stared at her owlishly, mouth open in a kind of silent, “Wha…?”

Roxanne began to pace around the room. “Allow me to explain then,” she said. “Last weekend, I came home to find evidence of a person, or persons, or…some other life forms breaking in and entering my apartment. Among other things, they’d helped themselves to several bottles of wine. Now: You’re a criminal, and therefore have some insight into the criminal mind. You don’t suppose you could help me unravel this mystery, do you?”

Megamind’s mouth had reformed itself into a perfect ‘o.’

“In case you need help, and I trust that your detective skills are the keenest known to this planet,” Roxanne continued, “what do you think of these blueprints I found on my coffee table?” She whisked her phone from her nightstand, unlocked it, and navigated to her photos. She thrust a photograph into the villain’s dusty face.

He inspected it for a moment before squeaking, “Gangs of rogue architects, no doubt. You have to keep a close eye on the people who design buildings, right? Because…because, after all, if you _design_ buildings, then it only stands to reason that you know a thing or two about breaking into them.”

“Good point,” said Roxanne. “But…there’s something oddly familiar about the handwriting surrounding it. In fact, it reminds me of a certain letter that I have sitting in my kitchen right now.” She glared at the villain to further illustrate her point.

“You can’t prove anything,” Megamind snapped.

“Well, I guess I’ll just have to ask Metro Man what _he_ thinks…”

“No, no!” Megamind shot up like a bar of soap that had been squeezed with too much gusto. “That won’t be necessary! I er…okay, let me admit something. _Nosy reporter,_ ” he grumbled, brushing past her and sitting on the side of her bed. “You see, last Friday Metro Man and I…well, I…I tricked Metro Man.”

Roxanne raised an eyebrow.

“But he started it!” Megamind protested. “When I was disguised as you, he approached me…with his _charms.”_

“His _charms?_ ”

“I know it was wrong of me. Fiendish, even. Well, I’m a fiend. It’s what I do, right? But that experience…it changed me. I never knew that what you had with him was so…”

“Don’t say it,” Roxanne said, her face in her hands.

“...tender,”

“ _No_ ,” Roxanne’s face sunk deeper into her palm.

“…special,”

“Please stop.”

“… _magical._ ”

Roxanne uncovered her face and stared at him. For all the genius in the world that he possessed, he was remarkably clueless. One could not scour the earth and find someone so brilliant, yet so simple. And when he wasn’t busy being dishonest, so simply honest.

“Megamind, I…” Roxanne trailed off. Was it really necessary to explain the truth to him?

Megamind stood up. For once she noticed that the villain was just shy of being eye-level with her, despite his cranium extending far above her own. It was the kind of discrepancy that would cause endless debates over who should technically be considered taller, if the two of them were ever to become a couple. At this point in time, the idea was far from Roxanne’s mind.

“I know you hate being bothered by me,” he said softly. “I should just leave.” The villain padded toward her door.

Well, Roxanne thought, he wasn’t wrong.

She sighed and trailed after him. “Megamind, let me explain. No, there is too much. Let me sum up,” she said.

Megamind turned, frowning.

“You see, Metro Man is—” she froze. She wasn’t sure _what_ Metro Man was anymore, not after their conversation last week. To be frank, she wasn’t sure if _he_ was sure what he was either. Maybe it was an alien thing. Or maybe it was some sort of invisible sexual orientation that mainstream society wasn’t quite aware of yet.

Either way, she would have to do some research into the matter, because that’s what sensible people did.

Megamind was still gaping at her expectantly.

Roxanne waved her hand. “He’s…um…”

“ _Canadian?_ ” Megamind ventured.

Roxanne’s mental processes actually shut down at this point.

“I always _knew_ it!” Megamind said.

“Um…Right,” said Roxanne, reconsidering her options, “and as such, he only dates…other Canadians.”

“What do you mean?”

“Megamind, we’ve _never_ been dating. It’s just a thing we let people assume to cover up for his…you know…”

Realization crept across Megamind’s features like frost on a window. “Of course,” he said. “Roxanne, how insensitive do you think I am? Being a public figure is never easy. And declaring from the rooftops that you’re Canadian…well, people have mixed feelings about that.”

Roxanne buried her face in her hands and allowed Megamind to continue.

“But it makes me so _furious,_ ” Megamind heaved. “It shouldn’t have to be that way! Not in this day and age! What is it? Do people have some sort of problem with being saved by a powerful, yet gentle and effeminate Canadian? Is that it?”

The reporter only watched Megamind through her fingers. He strolled across her bedroom and gazed at himself in the mirror, wistfully.

“I’m sorry, Roxanne. I know it’s not really my business. If you don’t want him to know that I know, I won’t say anything. But do you know how many of my prison uncles were Canadian? I mean, back in my teenage years when I went through an identity crisis every other week, I frequently wondered whether _I_ was Canadian myself. Even nowadays, I look at Metro Man and I think, ‘man, I might be a _little_ bit Canadian.’”

Roxanne’s hands fell from her face. “Megamind,” she said at last, “have you ever considered talking to Metro Man about your…Canadian feelings for him?”

The villain gaped at her for a long time. “Talk?”

“To him.”

“To _him?_ ” He looked positively horrified.

“Or I could talk to him for y—”

“No!” Megamind covered his mouth with his hands.

Roxanne smirked. She was gaining enough ammunition to chase the villain out of her house for good. “Are you sure? I _could_ call him…”

“I am extremely sure!”

Roxanne pulled out her phone and unlocked it.

“Don’t!” Megamind yelped.

She whistled, scrolling through her contact list.

“I really, really mean it!” Megamind stomped his foot to show off just how much he _really, really meant it._

Roxanne’s thumb hovered over Steve Scott’s name.

Megamind was poised like an over-caffeinated cat. His words were just as jittery and without rhythm as one, too. If an over-caffeinated cat could talk, that is. “Y…ou’ve _gonetoofar!_ ” He shrieked.

Roxanne simply continued to grin at him.

“Enough!” He crouched and sprang, crying, “YeeeeEEEEeeeeEEEEeeee!”

Roxanne was ready for him. She ducked. In the meantime, she tucked her phone into her bra, next to the tape. Megamind landed behind her and rolled on the floor.

She turned around. Megamind got up woozily. Then, a voice emanated from Roxanne’s chest.

“Hello?” It was Steve. Of course it was Steve.

_Oops,_ Roxanne mouthed.

Megamind looked on in horror, knuckles pressed against his mouth. He occasionally reached out a hand and brought it back, torn between his desire to crush Roxanne’s phone and his stifling fear of going anywhere near it.

“Um. _Hey,_ ” she said to her breasts.

Megamind was gnawing on his fingers.

There was a sleepy yawn from the other end of the line. And then: “Hey, Rox.”

“Hey Steve.”

“’Sup,” said the voice of Steve.

Megamind sunk to his knees.

“So…how are things?” Roxanne asked.

Megamind fell to Roxanne’s feet and grabbed an ankle, whimpering.

“Oh, the usual…” Steve said. Then his voice suddenly sounded tinny with distance and he could be heard saying, “Sparkles, that is _not_ a scratching post! …Sorry about that,” he said, voice becoming louder again. “What were we talking about again?”

Roxanne opened her mouth to answer just as there was a cacophony of clunking sounds coming from her phone, followed by yowling cats and Steve saying, “Oh, not again. Ugh. It’s like Elvis is magnetically attracted to my trophy shelf.”

“Um. Is this a bad time?” Roxanne asked.

“Nope! Never a bad time,” chirped Steve over what sounded like five cats fighting in a clothes dryer.

“Um. Okay, then.” Roxanne looked down at Megamind, who was beginning to whimper.

“So…what’s the occasion?”

Roxanne took a deep breath. “Well you know, I’ve been thinking about life,” she said, kicking Megamind away, “and…well I’m not getting younger, right?”

“I guess?”

“I was thinking…it’s time.”

“For?”

Roxanne bit her lip. “For becoming…a cat lady.”

There was silence on the other end of the line. Even the cats were listening.

Roxanne continued, despite the ringing silence and the fact that Megamind was staring at her with such confusion that his eyebrows were threatening to merge together into one Megabrow.

“And well, you know—or maybe _you_ don’t know in particular, but I hope a metaphorical ‘you’ out there _does_ know—being a professional _while_ being a single cat lady is never easy and, er…”

“Are you implying,” breathed Steve, “that you want me to raise the cats with you?”

Roxanne exhaled. Megamind’s jaw dropped.

“I would be honored, _Steven._ Of course, in the most platonic way possible. Of course.”

Megamind mouthed the word “platonic,” not sure whether to envision fine china or a drink that comes with gin, which he hadn’t heard of until the previous weekend, anyway.

“Of course,” said Steve. “But this is all moving so fast! I need some time to digest this.”

“No! There is no time. I need your answer tonight. Our future depends on this,” Roxanne breathed. Megamind grappled her ankles once more, putting Roxanne at risk of toppling over.

“You sure?” asked Steve.

“Yes, extremely sure! I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life! Can we talk about this? At my place? ASAP? Hey, you could superspeed over h—”

Roxanne heard a dial tone in one ear and her doorbell ringing in the other.

She and Megamind stared at each other blankly before scrambling to the hallway and getting lodged in its doorway as they tried to stuff themselves through. After a long moment of cursing at each other’s existence, the two of them popped into the hall like a couple of racing corks from two adjacent bottles of champagne.

They lay belly-down, panting.

“What is the matter with you?” Roxanne hissed.

“Oh, you don’t understand,” moaned Megamind. “I can’t possibly face him like this.”

“Why not? He’s just your nemesis. I don’t see what the fuss is about.”

“Oh, that’s just the point.” Megamind was cut off by another impatient buzzing from the other room.

“Just a second!” Roxanne called.

Megamind flopped over and raised a hand toward the ceiling. “He’s like a majestic eagle that soars through the sky,” he said. “And what am I?”

“Well,” said Roxanne, “you’re uh…you’re pretty… _neat._ ”

Megamind sighed, covering his face with a spiked forearm.

Roxanne lifted herself onto her elbows. “Doesn’t anyone realize that Metro Man isn’t even real? Here’s the city’s hero! He’s a weird cat-man. Nobody _gets_ this. Nobody but me.”

Megamind sighed even louder.

“Look. Regardless of how you feel, I have to go answer this door.”

“I’ll be wasting away on this hallway floor,” Megamind heaved.

“You do that.”

She rushed off, not bothering to look behind her. Megamind would be creeping out the back entrance any moment now. Feeling defeated, she flung open the door, looking up expectantly. There was nothing there.

Roxanne blinked. Then she looked down into the gaunt face of Mrs. Worchestershire from across the hall, and incidentally, from Minion’s knitting club. Even if the woman wasn’t chronically hunched over, she’d still be an entire head shorter than Roxanne. But, like old ladies everywhere, she probably had a carrying capacity that rivaled even Steve’s.

“Hey. I know you’re in cahoots with the fish,” the lady hissed through porcelain teeth. “Pass this on, will ya?” She handed Roxanne a discreet sheet of paper that had been folded into an origami goose. “Jus’ to remind him whose side to take this season. Now pass it on. Got it?”

“Um. Yeah,” said Roxanne, frowning at the goose in her hand. She slammed the door in the woman’s face and dropped the vicious fowl, half-expecting it to self-destruct.

“…and this is Celebrimbor,” gushed a voice behind her, “and this…is Garbage! I saved him from the garbage.”

Roxanne wheeled. There was Steve, in all his chinnish, unshaven glory, holding open his photo album for Megamind to ponder over.

“Gar- _bauge_ ,” repeated Megamind, brushing his fingers over laminated pages. “Fascinating! And what purpose do these creatures serve in your lair?”

Steve frowned. “Purpose? Mostly they’re fluffy. Except for my hairless cat, Chicken.”

“And why do you call it _Chicken?”_

“Well, when she’s curled up, she kind of looks like a raw—”

“Khm-khm.”

The villain and the hero glanced up.

Roxanne surveyed the scene before her. It consisted of Megamind nearly splayed in Steve’s lap, pouring over a book entitled: “Cats Over the Years.” She felt like someone who had been dragged by her weird art friends to some garish Postmodern art exhibition.

“Look. About what I said on the phone,” Roxanne rambled, “I’ve had a stressful week and sometimes I get weird ideas, and hey—”

She was cut off by the sound of giggling coming from the city’s defender and its chief villain. “…how did you time it so that it looked like they were square-dancing?” Megamind asked with awe, pointing at another photo.

Roxanne stepped in front of them and waved her arms. “Hey! What do you think this is? Another sleepover?”

The two of them stared at her blankly.

“Well, couldn’t it be?” Steve suggested.

Roxanne stared at them for a long time. Hanging out with a couple of cat-obsessed aliens wasn’t her idea of winding down after a long day, but since when was it _anyone’s_ idea of spending a relaxing night?

She plopped down next to them with her arms crossed. “I’ll keep you two around,” she conceded, “as long as you don’t interrupt my tea time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, it's been a long journey, but I think I'm finally out of ammo for this story. If I ever think of anything to add, I'll post it. After all, this chapter was entirely unplanned. Who knows what could happen? Could they all elope to Canada? Will Roxanne ever have some Goddamn Peace and Quiet? Probably not, if she continues to hang out with Megamind and Metro Man.


End file.
